Blood Dance
by Mina3
Summary: DiscontinuedGWAB crossover Twilight Tarantella uploaded. What, you thought Quatre and Trowa were fluffy?
1. Part 1

**Blood Dance —**  
Part 1  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for Gundam Wing apply. _Anita Blake_ and other subsequent characters from the _Anita Blake_ series are the property of Laurell K. Hamilton. Suing me is pointless, 'cause all of my money goes to supporting my addictions. I'll just let you wonder what those are. ^_^ 

Warnings: Lots of language. I've never been known for a clean mouth. Some very mild shounen ai. 

::grins:: Okay, okay, just a couple of little notes here. This first part has actually been sitting on my hard drive since…oh, _The Killing Dance_. In other words: a fricken' long time. It wasn't until I noticed that other people were posting GW/AB crossovers that I got up the guts to post it. ...Peer pressure? Me? Naaaw. 

Posted: April 2000  
Revised: August 2002  


* * *

It was an awful day—I didn't even need to open my eyes to know _that_. The headache bent on splitting my skull at the temples was a good indication of how my day was going to go.     Well, that and the sound of clacking keyboard keys, which were resounding through my head, like a stampeding herd of obese mammoths.  
    Oh, yes, this was going to be bad.  
    With a small whimper I opened my eyes, quickly closing them again with a groan. Fuuuck! Yeah, I know. Not the usual morning words of greeting by any standards. But then again, this wasn't your usual morning and I definitely wasn't what you'd call your usual person.  
    And, hey—what do you expect a guy with the hangover-from-hell to say when the first thing that he sees is a damn neon yellow smiley face pinned to the ceiling directly above his bed?  
    My friends, you see, have a sick sense of humour.  
    No, no, that wasn't fair. Trowa would never do something as sadistic as this, so it was either Wufei's or Quatre's idea. I was guessing Wufei since Quatre's not a morning person, and whoever had put that poster up had done it some time after three this morning and before—well, whatever time it was now. Okay, it was probably a lot later than, say, noon, which meant that Quatre was probably more than up by now, but the poster thing just reeked of Wufei.  
    "Duo, I know you're awake," a slightly nasal voice said softly.  
    I cringed mentally. Great—_he's_ still here. I'd kind of been hoping that the clacking keys were a hallucination brought about from my overly enthusiastic efforts to get plastered last night. _No, I'm not,_ I throw back at him mentally. Hell, this is all I need to top my morning off, Heero. Godzilla size headache, the smiley face of death, and thou; if I'd felt a little more human I would have sat up, said this aloud, and reached over and pinched his cheek. As it was, I attempted to burrow deeper into the blankets and think nasty thoughts at my roommate. I don't know why I put up with your cold, unemotional shit, Heero Yuy.  
    "Duo, get up now or I sacrifice your braid to my demon idol."  
    That got my attention. "Touch my hair and _die_, Yuy," I snapped, shielding my eyes to toss him my own version of his trademarked Death Glare. Duo Maxwell will put up with many forms of torture, but hair threats were my breaking point. Hair threats were personally signed death warrants.  
    But Heero was already ignoring me, presenting me with his lovely backside once again as he typed away on his ever-present laptop. I knew I should have thrown the damn thing out when I had the chance. But nooo-I had to go and get sentimental. Ch'. I hate wasting a good threat. And what good is threatening a guy if he ignores you? It sure doesn't do much for my ego, that's for sure.  
    With another groan of protest, I managed to lever myself up into a sitting position, blinking my eyes slowly to get used to the light. It wasn't much, thank god. For once I was glad of Heero's propensity for mushrooming.  
    Yes, all hail the absolute darkness that is Heero's bedroom.  
    With absolutely no grace whatsoever, I stumbled towards the bathroom, tripping over a pillow and stubbing my toe on a sock.  
    Don't ask.  
    After having brushed my teeth twice to try and get rid of that 'something-crawled-in-my-mouth-and-died-and-has-already-begun-to-decompose' taste left by last night's overly imbibed alcohol (And, by the way, if you're prone to puking after too much alcohol, might I recommend _not_ using toothpaste?), I caught sight of my face in the mirror and grimaced. I don't think I've ever looked so bad in my life.  
    All right, so that was a personal opinion—of course—and it comes with living in denial for the last month, plus a little. I'm sure that Quatre and Wufei would remind me that I've looked much worse.  
    With a sigh, I tugged the hair band from the end of my braid, unravelling the heavy twists. I grabbed my hairbrush from the sink counter and wandered back out into the bedroom.   
    Our current safe house wasn't much when you got right down to it. It was a large, rundown _thing_ that probably could have been classified as a house at one time, but now looked like Trowa's circus buddies had gotten a hold of it and gotten creative with the architecture. It was scheduled to be demolished sometime in the near future—not a surprise given the number of roof leaks we'd had to deal with already. Well, it had actually been scheduled to be demolished for several months now, but with the war going on people felt there were more important things to worry about. It wasn't bad as far as houses-waiting-to-be-destroyed went. The rooms were bare except for the cots we'd managed to sneak in. The ceiling was missing in spots and the wallpaper was faded and torn in most places. And, from what I remember from last night, there's a reeeally big hole not far from the doorway. I managed to find it and ended up flat on my face. I was just glad that Heero slept through it. I swear, that guy—thankfully—sleeps like the dead.     The first thing I noticed when I looked up from my reverie and around our room was that Heero was gone and his laptop had been turned off. Thank God for small miracles. The second was a little blue sticky note stuck on the closed top.  
    Curious, I leaned over to see what it said, eyes widening in surprise even though I should have been expecting it. Belatedly, I reminded myself that curiosity killed the cat _and_ what was left of my sanity.   
    Of course, I've also been told there wasn't much to begin with. Sanity, that is. For me. Gah, never mind!  
    The little blue rectangular sticky note was a list—a list that Heero began about a month or so ago which has steadily been growing. It wasn't the original list, mind you. The original list had been folded and opened so many times that Heero had to sit down and write up a new one less than a week later. If I remembered correctly, which I probably don't if you remember the whole 'living in denial' thing, this was actually list number five. Maybe it's six or eight or thirteen; I'm not exactly sure. When you've been trying to live the last month in a haze of sorts, Heero's thrice-damned list doesn't help a whole lot.  
    Why, you ask, does a measly list—a piece of paper with nothing more than a bunch of words on it-bother me so much? Here's a hint: it begins with vampire, _now_ ends with dryads, and has everything from lamia and necromancer to lycanthropy and _homo arcanus_ in between.  
    I've seen a lot of strange shit in my days as a street brat, terrorist, and Gundam pilot. But let me tell you, what's happened to me in the last month since I got Heero back has been the icing on the cake. It's an icing that somehow manages to be sweet and healing, bitter and poisonous, all at the same time.   
    You know, kind of like if someone spiked your cotton candy with antifreeze. Yum, yum.  
    You see, I lost Heero a month and a half ago—sort of. No, I didn't misplace him or get physically separated from him; I've been accused of being flighty, but look at me people. I mean, I've made it this far, haven't I? Give me some credit here.  
    Losing Heero was a lot more permanent than something as trivial-sounding as that. He'd taken on a solo mission and failed—which means, in Heero-terms, he'd self-destructed to save the integrity of the mission. And it looked like his self-destruct plan had succeeded this time.  
    Kaboom. Eighteen high-powered C4 charges set to go of in sync and demolish a mobile suit production factory. When that moron realised he was surrounded with no chance of escape, he stayed inside the building rather than risking capture.   
    I sometimes wonder if he and Wing aren't hardwired for that kind of thing, self-destructing. I mean, Sandrock wouldn't self-destruct with Quatre still in the cockpit, and Deathscythe thought I was off my fuckin' rocker for trying to self-destruct the both of us. See? Even when I'm without my sanity, I can count on Deathscythe to keep both our wits about.  
    …My thoughts made more sense when I was drunk, you know.  
    But we all know that Heero seems to do everything to excess, and the charges he'd placed in the factory were no exception. The reports we got after the explosion were horrible. There were no survivors. Most of the bodies were charred so badly that they'd have to be identified by their dental records. For three days I sat in front of his laptop; hoping, waiting for the e-mail confirmation to come and pick him up. It was awful. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, and Quatre had to remind me to go to the bathroom. I was like a vegetable, sitting in front of the laptop glow as if it were sunlight, waiting for miracle to occur.  
    It never happened.  
    The others were upset at Heero's loss. After all, he'd been our friend for a long time, and much as we hate to admit it, we all looked up to him in a certain respect. He might not always have been the most mature one—or the sanest, for that matter—but he was one of us, a Gundam pilot. And more often than not, he was the drive that kept us going when we were ready to give up. So yeah, I could see where the other guys would be a little distraught…but that didn't prepare me for the way I would feel when it all finally sank in. I was utterly devastated. Heero was my best friend. I'd already nearly lost him once. He'd been lucky to survive when he'd self-destructed Wing. Losing him like that was hard—it felt like a personal betrayal.  
    I snorted, shaking my head as I sat down on my bed and began to brush out my hair—no minor chore, that. I keep using the past tense when thinking about him, even though I know he just left the room scant minutes ago.   
    In regards to his death a few months ago, I should have been prepared for such a possibility with my track record. I tried so hard not to care for that brooding, homicidal psychopath.  
    But I'd failed—quite miserably, at that. I'd cared much more than I'd realised, discovered that when I'd lost Heero I'd lost a part of myself as well. Those two weeks of living hell…well, I don't like to think about them. I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of, things that aren't good to dwell on. Things that, if Heero found about them, would get me knocked into next week and then locked up in the nearest mental ward. I think, that, between the three of them, Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei managed to give me a bigger guild trip than even Sister Helen was capable of—and she was the _best_ when it came to things like that.  
    Then had come Quatre's dream. He and Trowa had gone out, some how managing to recover Heero's body. I would have gone with them had Quatre not drugged me up to my eyeballs and sicced Wufei on me. I still remember clearly how his prone form looked on the couch. He was just as perfect as I had remembered, which had come as quite a shock. I mean, I had been expecting anything we found of Heero to fit into one of those gallon size Ziploc bags. Easily. Instead, Heero had looked as good as always, just without a pulse. Firm, chiselled facial features; full lips, relaxed instead of twisted into a scowl; tumble of untidy dark brown hair that I always just wanted to reach out and run my fingers through—  
    "Ye-ouch!" Figures—pulled too hard on my hair. Only you, Yuy, could make me lose concentration on my hair to the extent of yanking. Well, maybe it was for the best. The pulling distracted me enough to realise where my thoughts were heading and those thoughts are best left alone, or they'll have me reaching for the bottle again-just as I have nearly every night the past month.  
    And, no, just for clarification, I'm not an alcoholic. Alcoholics go to meetings. I'm a drunk, thank you very much.  
    The door opened and I looked up, breath catching in my throat. Heero had come back—with coffee it looked like—but it was what he was wearing that had snagged my full attention. I was used to seeing Heero in his green tank top and black spandex—occasionally blue jeans—ninety-nine point nine fine percent of the time.  
    I really should have paid more attention to what he was wearing when I first woke up. Then I could have drooled and looked like a besotted idiot in private.  
    Shit! Who'd have thought that Heero Yuy—the "Perfect Soldier," Mr. No-nonsense, master of death threats and the secrets of hiding a 9mm in spandex shorts without any betraying lines—could look like sex in leather? I mean, we're talking front cover material for Wet Dreams 'R' Us here!  
    Tight black leather pants, which laced up the sides through silver eyelets, were tucked into mid-calf high black suede boots. His shirt appeared to be made of midnight blue silk and the collar of the long sleeve shirt was open just enough to reveal a tantalising flash of smooth skin. There was a pattern work of silver embroidery on the collar and cuffs, but my mind couldn't quite focus enough to make out exactly what it was. There were silver streaks threaded throughout his dark hair, matching the small silver hoop in his left ear—which I hadn't known he _had_—and the silver ring with a dark purple stone set in it on his left hand.  
    Heero stepped closer with the styrofoam cups in his hands, settling beside me on my bed. "Here," he said softly, handing one of the cups to me.  
    "Um, sankyuu,"[1] I muttered, taking the cup after setting my brush aside. Hopefully he hadn't noticed my stupefied expression…hopefully I was only drooling mentally rather than physically.   
    "What is it?" I asked, sniffing at the opening distrustfully. You can never be too careful when it comes to coffee. I mean, the last time someone brought me coffee, it had been laced with some sort of drug that knocked me out for half a day. I would never trust a set of big, bright blue eyes ever again. Especially when they were set in as innocent a seeming face as Quatre's. How the hell does he know about all that herbal shit, anyway? Little neo-hippie punk…  
    Heero smiled faintly, dark blue eyes flashing with what looked suspiciously like amusement. "Coffee—black. No-one put anything in it," he promised me.  
    I grinned, taking a hefty swig. "Hot!" I managed to get out after a moment, tongue feeling numb from the heat. But hey, it was _coffee_! Nothing helped me to regain focus the morning after a binge-drinking session like black coffee. I set the coffee down and picked my brush back up, beginning to brush out the snarls on the right side.   
    I was watching my hand intently; Heero was still sitting beside me on my left, so I was brushing the opposite side of my hair—didn't want to thwack him with my brush, you know. It was hard to resist the temptation of looking at Heero, but I was determined to succeed. If I'm never known for anything else in my life, I can be secure in the knowledge that I'll always be known for my stubbornness.  
    I am mule, hear me bray… Excuse me while I dissolve into helpless snickering…  
    I felt the barest touch on my hair and stiffened slightly. Relax, Maxwell, I told myself, attempting to follow my mental advice without noticeable success. I was so paranoid by this point in my life that I'd probably jump if my own shadow looked at me funny. It was probably nothing, just me shifting on the ends of my hair or something. I went back to brushing, watching the individual teeth of the brush part through the strands of my hair. Pursing my lips, I decided that I was beginning to grow tired of the medium brown colour I currently had my hair died to; maybe I would do something about it before I went on my mission tonight. With a heartfelt sigh, I began to count my brush strokes: juuhachi, juukyuu, nijuu, ni—  
    Tug, tug.  
    My eyes widened in surprise, my hand stilling completely. I could clearly feel _that_. Heero was running his fingers through the hair on the other side of my head, and as I watched from the corner of my eye, he brought the ends up between his fingers, gazing at them in what appeared to be avid fascination. Personally, I'd never thought of the shade my hair currently was as particularly interesting. I mean, it's brown. It's boring. And it's supposed to be that way. So what did Heero find so damn captivating about it?  
    "Um, is there something you wanted?" I asked carefully. Hell, I wasn't sure about that look in his eyes. It was kind of scary. And it looked a lot like that really intense one he used to give me right before he'd punch me.  
    Heero shook his head, letting my hair slip from his fingers. "No."  
    I shifted nervously, wanting nothing more than to dive onto _his_ bed to finish my hair brushing. He may have let go of my hair, but he hadn't moved from his position beside me. As a matter of fact, he'd shifted closer. I could now feel the line of his thigh pressed against mine. Damn, I thought. He's awfully touchy-feely today. Not that I particularly minded or anything. Hell, under normal circumstances I would have died of happiness—and probably utter shock—if Heero wanted to touch me. Right now it just seemed…weird, somehow.  
    "Oi, Heero, if you don't mind me asking…"  
    "Hn?" Heero looked at me with a raised eyebrow, fingers rubbing absently—and seductively, dammit!—across the bared flesh of his throat.  
    "Why are you dressed like se—_ummm_, I mean, that?" Whoa, almost slipped up there big time, Maxwell. Yep, he probably would have decked me into next week if that had finished popping out of my mouth. 'Why are you dressed like sex?' What can I say—Freudian slip?   
    Somehow, I don't think that excuse would stand up in the Heero Yuy Court of Law.  
    Heero cocked his head to the side, eyes closing halfway as he watched my hand run the brush through my hair-at least I think that's what he was watching. "New mission," he said.  
    I spluttered in shock, my eyes feeling as if they were popping from my face. Hell, for all I knew, they might be. "You're dressed like _that_ for a fucking _mission_? Goddamn—what kind of a mission _is_ it?"  
    Heero smirked at me, dark blue eyes narrowing as he watched my face, and I could feel myself just melting into a puddle on the bed at that sexy smirk. Yuck. It's really disgusting what he does to me; just absolutely, totally, completely and utterly disgusting—and I really needed to quit using synonyms. Maybe I should check myself into the nearest mental ward and save everyone else the trouble.  
    "Sore wa himitsu desu," he said mysteriously, rising from the bed.  
    "A secret?" I blinked in surprise before I narrowed my eyes at him. "Just what's that supposed to mean? Since when do you keep you're missions a secret from me—"  
    We both froze as that last word slipped from my lips. The brush slipped from my fingers, clattering noisily against the floor. To my ears it seemed to resound like a gong through temple halls, but I didn't really pay attention to it. I'd gone to staring fixedly at my hands, which were now clenched in my lap.   
    I'd been careful—so very, very careful these last few weeks not to say anything. I guess I was bound to slip up some time—but why right now? I still wasn't ready to deal with it yet. I wasn't sure I ever _would_ be. I mean, who's ever really ready to deal with their best friend—who also happens to be the one they love—dying one day and coming back from the dead a couple weeks later? It's not like it's an everyday occurrence or anything.  
    I was so absorbed in my own chaotic thoughts that I didn't notice Heero's weight settle beside me on the bed once again. He grabbed my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes up to meet his. You know, I sometimes think that I could stare into those endless pools of prussian blue darkness forever, drowning in their depths happily. Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, I couldn't turn away.  
    Heero smiled—it was a small, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "It's okay, Duo." He said it softly, holding my gaze the whole time. His words echoed through my head like a mantra—one that, once it pierced the fuzzy haze I had been existing in, sent the whole barrier crumbling down.  
    "God!" Yeah, I know that I profess not to believe in Him, but in the enormity of my situation, it was something of a comfort to say His name even if He were nothing but a figment of humanity's mass imagination.  
    I closed my eyes, the tears slipping free at last. I'd kept them pent up too long—I knew that. Hell, I hadn't cried at all those two weeks prior to recovering Heero's body. I couldn't. I did cry…that night…but those were tears of relief that only Wufei had been witness to. This was something else. And without my Great Wall of Duo to protect me and keep the bad thoughts out, I was like a little lost child in the wilderness after dark.  
    "No, Heero, it's not all right!" I couldn't help it. Heero was looking at me with such—_emotion_. There are times when I think that nothing will ever be okay again, because I know that nothing can be as it was before Heero's accident. I tore my face away from his hand, curling over onto my side, bringing my knees up and burying my face into them in a foetal position.   
    I really, really wanted a drink—now.  
    I felt like a complete idiot, falling apart in front of Heero like this. I expected him to leave the room, leave me all alone with my tears and my pain. He'd never been comfortable with emotions, and I was exercising enough of them at the moment for the entire dorm floor of the boarding school we'd vacated last week.  
    So, needless to say, I was shocked when an arm snaked around my chest drawing me back against the hard length of Heero's body. His other hand was running through my hair as he whispered over and over into my ear, "It's okay, it's okay."  
    Blindly I turned, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in the crook, hot tears leaking into the fabric. I wanted to believe his words so badly. I wanted to believe that after everything we'd been through—all five of us—over the past year-plus, we'd come out of it on top. That we'd make it through all right, surviving anything this bitch of a war threw our way.   
    Heero just held me, rubbing one hand soothingly up and down my back while the other kept me close, as if Heero were afraid I'd try and leave. Hn. Where would I have gone? Truth told, there was no place else that I would rather be than where I was right now. Heero was warm and real, a tangible thing in my arms. I needed to touch such a reality at the moment; otherwise I might lose the tentative hold I'd existed on completely.  
    When the tears and my trembling finally stopped, I was afraid to look up. I was afraid of what I would see in Heero's eyes; that I'd see pity for the poor, overly emotional Gundam pilot. "I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes tightly. "Really, I'm very, very sorry."  
    "For what?" Heero asked. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Duo."  
    I looked up suspiciously at the tone in his voice. It sounded as if he were being sincere.  
    "I'm serious," Heero said earnestly as I stared up at him with suspicion evident all over my face. "There is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry for, Duo." He smiled softly, brushing bangs from my eyes and tucking strands of wayward hair back behind my ears. "When I get back, we'll talk about this."  
    I opened my mouth to protest, but he quickly covered my lips with his finger, giving me a stern look. "We _will_ talk about this, Duo, make no mistake about that. But I need to get going, and you need to get ready for your reconnaissance mission with Wufei."  
    Still scowling, I pulled back slightly, rubbing my sleeve across my eyes and nose. I probably looked absolutely awful—despite what you see in movies, no-one can cry pretty, not even Relena-oujousama herself—but I was too miserable and too emotionally worn out to really care. "Wufei and I aren't supposed to leave until seven. I have plenty of time to get ready," I muttered.  
    Heero smirked, quirking an eyebrow. "And just what time do you think it is, sleeping beauty?" he drawled.  
    I glanced at the blinds, noting the filtered sunlight that spread across the floorboards. "I dunno. Two or three in the afternoon I suppose."  
    Heero's smirk broadened and I briefly thought about smacking him. I didn't like being smirked at; it made me feel smaller than I really was. "Try seventeen-hundred, Duo. I know how long it takes you to get ready for a night out; you'd better start now or Wufei will drag you out without your hair being done."  
    I blinked dumbly. "Seventeen…hundred… Shiiit!" I wailed, jumping from the bed and running for my carrisack. Briefly I wondered how I'd managed to sleep so late. After rummaging around and grabbing my towel, shampoo, and conditioner, I turned back around to find Heero laughing at me softly.  
    "What's so funny?" I asked, eyes narrowing. It struck me as a little odd that Heero was laughing at me. Well, not really _odd_. I mean, of all the people in our little group to laugh at, I'm probably the best candidate and all. But what was so damn funny?  
    Heero just shook his head. "Oh, it's nothing," he said softly, waving a hand in dismissal.  
    "Hn." I began to move past him towards the bathroom, being stopped short when he grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. I almost let out a very undignified eep when I found myself nose to nose with Heero.  
    "Hee-Heero," I stuttered uncertainly, blinking in confusion. Shit, Heero's weird behaviour was seriously starting to freak me out. Hmmm… I wonder if Quatre slipped something into _his_ coffee.  
    Heero just stared at me for a long moment, then closed his eyes and shook his head again. Much to my surprise, he pulled my head down and pressed his lips to my forehead. I almost passed out cold. My eyes went wide and if it weren't for the fact that it was my only hand hold on reality, I would have dropped my shower stuff.  
    "Be careful tonight, _mon petit_," Heero murmured, before turning and striding out the door of our room.  
    I sat down carefully on my bed, still blinking dumbly at the door that had closed on Heero's backside. What the hell was going on? It was like I'd woken up in the fucking Twilight Zone today. And when the hell had he learned French?  
    A glance at the clock I'd buried under yesterday's shirt confirmed that it was indeed after five in the evening. I'd need to shower fast if I wanted to be ready in time to meet Wufei. One of his few drawbacks is that Wufei's a real stickler for punctuality. Besides, there was no way in hell I was going into this particular little mission without looking my absolute best.  
    As I walked into the bathroom and shut the door, a niggling thought that had been suppressed by the strangeness of Heero's behaviour finally jumped into the forefront of my mind.  
    "When the fuck did Heero get a demon idol?"  


* * *

[1]. ::grins:: Duo sounds so cute when he says thank you like that. 

[Part 2] 


	2. Part 2

**Blood Dance —**  
Part 2  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Gundam Wing_ apply. All the etc. of _Anita Blake_ and its characters are owned by Laurell K. Hamilton, not me. "Of Wolf and Man" belongs to Metallica. Suing is pointless; it'll only get you a half-full caffeine-free Pepsi and the rock I just found in my shoe.  


Warnings: Language, lots there of. Mild shounen ai. ::pause:: Hmmm… If lemons contain sex, and limes are slightly milder, where do oranges and grapefruits fit in?  


Notes: This is the revised-revised version of Part 2. That spot of third-person was just bothering me, and thanks to some agreeing comments from very nice people, I decided to fix it. Hah, it's been fixed!  


::sweatdrop:: Ya know…that sounds _really_ bad if you take it in the wrong context. 

Posted: May 2000  
Revised: August 2002  


* * *

I had just finished getting my hair up into a high ponytail when someone began pounding on the door. I was just about to ask who it was when the person yelled at me through the door.  
    "Hey, moron, open up the damn door!"  
    I rolled my eyes. I swear, sometimes I think Wufei has a worse mouth than I do. Scratch that; I _know_ he has a worse mouth than I do. "Hold your horses, Wu-man, I'm coming!" I called back, running the brush through my hair one last time. I undid the bolt on the door, pulling it back and blinking in surprise. "Wufei?!"  
    Fuck me running already, will ya? I think I've had all the goddamn surprises I can have for one night. Not that Wufei in black leather and silver mesh is a _bad_ surprise, mind you. Hell, he'd even left his hair down and had _glitter_ on his face. Upon further inspection, I discovered he wore the earrings with tear-shaped jet beads on silver hoops that I'd given him for his last birthday. The sleeves of his mesh shirt were short enough to show off to advantage the intricate black dragon tattoo that wrapped around his right upper arm. It was a good colour scheme for him, silver and black, and I was sure that the nightclub crowd would appreciate it. Of course, I hadn't thought that Wufei would really know how to blend into a club like the Unseelie Court.  
    As my rapidly blinking eyes were telling me, I was really way off base with that assumption. Assumption…ass…yep, that whole correlation was fitting at the moment.  
    I felt a little better as I registered the fact that Wufei was doing a little bit of gaping himself. "You like?" I asked with a grin, doing a little catwalk turn that left my hair swinging wildly at my back. I can't help it if I look good in purple silk and silver leather; really, I can't.  
    After Heero, Wufei was probably my next best friend. His short person complex is bigger than mine, even though he's taller than me; he's got a mouth equal to my own or worse, since he knows more languages; his sarcasm puts Dorothy Catalonia—known amongst ourselves as the Evil Priestess of Seriamaius—to shame; he's got a great music collection; and his sense of humour is unparalleled in bizarreness. Let me tell ya; 'Mr. Justice' can sing a mean rendition of 'Living Dead Girl' when he's sloshed. And hey, if you can't pose in front of your friends, who can you pose in front of?  
    "Funny, Maxwell," Wufei snorted, pushing past me into the room and shutting the door. Then, after a moment in which I was starting to feel like a specimen on the lab table as he just stared at me, "Duo, what the hell did you do to your hair? It's straight, and it's dark."  
    "Oh, that." I gave Wufei a grin as I pulled the tail of hair over my shoulder. "Believe it or not, my hair's naturally straight as a board. It only looks wavy most of the time because I braid it so much."[1.]  
    "That doesn't explain the hair colour," Wufei said with a raised eyebrow. "Did you go to all the trouble of dying it just for tonight?"  
    I shook my head, moving to my bed to grab my jacket. "Nah. Before I came to Earth, I dyed my hair to the lighter brown colour you're used to. I was pretty well known back on L-2 as a terrorist working for the colonies, so I decided to play it safe."  
    "It obviously wasn't permanent," he drawled, placing his hands on his hips.  
    I gaped at him in pretended shock. "How dare you suggest such a thing! As if I'd submit my hair to such awful things as permanent hair colour." Then I grinned again, pulling my hair out of my jacket and tossing it over my shoulder. "It's been a real pain in the ass to keep dying it every three weeks, not to mention the fact damned expensive. I have to use three boxes of hair dye on this mane of mine, you know."  
    Wufei smirked and shook his head. "Who'd have thought that Duo Maxwell would turn out to be a red head." He ran a hand through his own inky, shoulder-length locks, tugging one of the longer strands that insisted upon falling into his eyes behind his ear.  
    "Dark auburn, please," I said primly. "Redheads are notoriously bad tempered and I'm very amiable, you have to admit."  
    Wufei snorted. "Whatever. Here, I got the equipment from Trowa earlier today," he said, handing me the tiny mike and earpiece that we'd use to keep in touch.  
    I attached the mike to the inside of my collar and slid the earpiece into my left ear. "Are we all set then?" I asked.  
    Wufei glanced around the room, then back at me, sloe eyes raking me over from head to foot intently. "I don't know. Are you armed?"  
    Yeah, I suppose that with as skimpy as my shirt was and as tight as my pants were it seemed like I was unarmed. If I weren't a Gundam pilot. Ch', sometimes I think that they don't give me even a quarter of the credit I deserve. And besides; Wufei, of all people, should have known better.  
    I rolled my eyes, letting out a deep sigh as I slipped my jewellery on. Wufei just glared at me. Finally, I relented and gave into him, spieling off a vocal list. "Duo Maxwell is always armed, Wufei. There's a knife in each boot, throwing knives under the first strip of leather of each forearm bracer, the ring on my right hand contains an extremely nasty acid, the chain around my hips makes a wonderful garrotte, and I am proficient in six different forms of hand to hand combat." I paused for breath, then added as I slipped the silver chain around my neck and its pendant under my shirt, "And I have my cross."  
    Wufei, who was looking momentarily stunned—and extremely glassy-eyed—by my running monologue, finally asked, "What's the cross for?"  
    I smiled mischievously, reaching to pinch his cheek before darting towards the door and dancing out into the hallway before he could react. "Just in case of vampires, Wu-man. Just in case of vampires."  


* * *

The Unseelie Court was your typical '90's After Colony dance club. Okay, okay…maybe it was a little more on the dark and morbid side than even I was used to, but after a few moments of standing in the darkness under the flickering light of the strobes, I was beginning to adjust.  


    I think.  
    Wufei grabbed my arm and motioned to the back corner of the coat closet. I followed him in, taking my coat off and hanging it up along with his. "So what's the plan?" I asked softly, my eyes darting around to make sure that there were no observers. Clean sweep. It wasn't like people were in the habit of loitering around the coatrooms or anything, but you could never be too sure.  
    "Well, we can do this one of two ways," Wufei said equally as soft. "We can pretend to be a couple—"  
    I couldn't help but interrupt that one. "Would you really do that, Wufei?" I purred, twining an arm around his waist, blinking my wide violet eyes up at him coquettishly. Along with my hair, my eyes are one of my few vanities, and I'd played them up as much as possible tonight. I'd lined them with black pencil and brushed on both purple and silver eyeshadow. Unlike some other people I'd met throughout my life, I didn't bother with mascara to darken my lashes. I used some clear mascara to define them better, but my eyelashes are already long, thick, and black.  
    Wufei's lips twitched, a slender black eyebrow arching as he brushed silky black hair from his eyes. "Can't you ever behave, Maxwell?"  
    I grinned, pulling my arm back and stretching both of them far above my head. "Not around you, I'm afraid." I can't help teasing Wufei. He's just so cute when disgruntled. If it wasn't for Heero, I could easily have fallen for Wufei. Good-looking, sensitive, has a sense of humour, no real job security, but that could be overlooked…did I mention good-looking?  
    "Or Yuy," I heard him mutter. "Our other choice is to go in separately."  
    I absently played with the chain around my hips as I thought, mulling the choices over. "Let's go in separately," I said after a moment. "It will give us more manoeuvrability, a better chance to mingle and catch our arms dealer."  
    "That's what I thought," Wufei said in agreement. "How do we want to split up?"  
    "That depends upon your alcohol tolerance—or your slight of hand abilities," I added as an after thought. Trowa had been teaching us all these little slight of hand tricks that could come in handy, but I was having a hell of a time mastering them. It was sickening how easy they were for everyone else—including Quatre—to accomplish.  
    Wufei grimaced. "You know all about my alcohol tolerances, Duo."  
    Yeah, I'd discovered those a few months after we'd met. Wufei had matched me drink for drink and was still able to talk coherently after two bottles of blueberry schnapps, a bottle of BV with coke, and I think—don't quote me on this, okay; I was really, really ploughed—a couple of beers after that. Granted he couldn't walk worth a damn afterward—Heero and I had to carry him to his bed—but he could still quote Chinese proverbs and the entire Gay/Bisexual Rights Amendment without a single slur. Now _that_ takes talent. His abilities to sing Rob Zombie under the influence developed later.   
    "I'll take the bar," he said after a moment. "You're better at mingling with the crowd that will be out there on the dance floor."  
    I grinned at his tone. "Yeah, we all know how you hate to socialise, Wu-man. Just make sure you keep me updated. I don't want you to leave me out there to be fondled by some guy old enough to be my grandfather just because you forgot to tell me that you'd already found our man."  
    "I would never do that to you," Wufei protested innocently, though with the shit eating grin plastered on his face he was far from convincing. What'd I tell you about his sense of humour?  
    "You just keep telling yourself that, Wufei," I sighed, shaking my head. "Anyway, if you don't hear anything in the next two hours or so, let me know and we'll pack it in, all right?"  
    "Understood." Wufei nodded his head and slipped from the coatroom, heading back out into the darkness.  
    "By the way," he added into the mike, "I'm thinking about remodelling my sparsely-decorated, ramshackle, partially destroyed-looking room. I think it needs a woman's touch." He paused and I cringed, just waiting for whatever degrading thing he was going to say, smacking my forehead with the heel of my hand when it came. "…Care to have a crack at it?"[2]  
    "Wu-man, one of these days I'm going to take you off of the angel dust and get you on Prozac," I muttered back at him.   
    With another sigh of disgust for his sense of humour I left the coatroom, glancing about at all of the bodies that decorated the room. I used to love coming to places like this, riding the adrenaline high I got for all it was worth. Sure, it didn't always end pretty for me, but I was used to not getting pretty. Sometimes you had to settle for the less than attractive to get somewhere in life.  
    Yuck, depressing thoughts. Hell, if I kept thinking like this, my whole night was going to be shot. I looked up, spotting a curvaceous blonde at the edge of the crowd who was looking in my direction. Sure the blonde was fake, but she was good-looking and alone. And her dark blue eyes reminded me a little bit of Heero. What can I say; I've always been a bit of a masochist.  
    Letting my prize-winning seductive smile slide onto my face, I crossed the floor towards her to ask her to dance.  


* * *

Brushing my bangs back from in front of my eyes, I grimaced when my fingers met with the sticky wetness of sweat. I'd only been dancing for an hour maybe and already I was sweating like a horse. Hn. Must be losing my edge.  


    I glanced out across the dance floor and its sea of people towards the bar, noticing with a frown that Wufei had disappeared once again. The first time he'd disappeared was when he'd trailed a small group of suspicious young men early on in the evening, and when he'd come back, the only thing he'd said was that they were one fucked up group of kids. I'd seen him chatting up a woman and her girlfriend a little later and he'd pretty much said the exact same thing once they'd left. Of course, he hadn't bothered to tell me just what was so weird. He'd just tell me that he hadn't heard anything about the arms deal and return to tossing back the drinks that people were buying him.  
    I snorted, shaking my head. I'd overheard by chance about the arms deal going down at the Unseelie Court. Wufei had thought I was off my rocker when I'd gone to him with the details and asked for his help. After all, arms deals just did _not_ go down in dance clubs. It was like some sort of unwritten law in the terrorist and arms dealers book of etiquette or something.  
    But Wufei had agreed to come with me anyway, for which I was most grateful—not that I'd ever tell him that. I hadn't thought that Heero would be able to blend in—yeah, I know I'd already been proven wrong on that matter, but that's beside the point—Trowa was out of the question just on the basis that Quatre would have killed me, and I was still more than a little pissed at Quatre over the whole sleeping shit in my coffee incident.  
    Although, I mulled, Quatre and I were on speaking terms again. And, really, I should probably thank the little neo-hippie punk since his herbal stuff _did_ save my life, pretty much. And Wufei…I owe Wufei so much that I can't even begin to express it fully. I was an ungrateful bastard to him, during those two week before Heero's return, and I never did thank him for sticking by me through it all.  
    Really, Wufei…really, you _are_ my best friend, aren't you?  
    Almost as if by some unseen call I looked up—like up towards the rafters and ceiling up—and to the far right in time to catch Wufei's leather-clad derriere slide back inside of the dance club through the window. My eyes widened briefly in surprise as I glanced around a bit wildly, wondering if anyone else had seen him make his entrance. Thankfully no-one seemed to have noticed.  
    I backed up slightly to lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest and planting one foot against the wall. Once I was sure that no-one was close enough to hear me and that the shadows hid from view relatively well, I decided it was safe to ask Wufei just what the hell it was he'd been doing.  
    "Not that I'm complaining," I said dryly, "because it was a rather mouth-watering view, but just what was it that you were doing?"  
    There was a pause before Wufei replied, and even though I couldn't see him because of the throng of dancers, I could just envision the scowl he was no doubt wearing on his cute face.  
    Wufei sighed over the earpiece. "Maxwell, you have better things to be doing than looking at my ass."  
    I grinned, eyes narrowing as they continued to sweep across the dance floor for anyone suspicious. "But it's such a sexy ass, Wu-man," I returned innocently.  
    Wufei snorted at that. "Whatever, Maxwell. Anyway, I was following a boy and girl that I'd overheard mention some more of that weird shit that I've been hearing about all night."  
    "Oh?" Even though I knew he couldn't see it, I arched an eyebrow in query. He really needed to learn to be a bit more specific; people talked about weird shit all the time—hell, _I_ talked about weird shit all the time.  
    "Duo, you're going to need to keep your eyes and ears wide open."  
    I frowned in confusion, the fingers of my right hand drumming on my bracers. "Why? What's going on?" I asked quietly.  
    I caught sight of Wufei standing at the far end of the dance floor, raking one hand through his unbound hair. "I'm not sure," he said as he disappeared from my line of sight. "Just keep an ear out for the word 'plasmababy.'"  
    "Plasmababy?" I repeated incredulously, wondering if I'd hear him right. "Wu-man, have you had a little to much to drink?" I asked, laughter threatening to spill free. I mean, with Wufei's sense of humour…  
    "I'm serious, Duo!" Wufei hissed back sharply. "This could be important."  
    I sighed, thumbing the tip of my nose as I thought. Not only was Wufei serious, he was bothered by whatever strange shit he'd been hearing about. Well, it wouldn't hurt to be cautious. "All right, all right. We'll do, Wufei. Incidentally, I heard from an enterprising young man a few minutes ago that our arms deal might have been moved to a nearby warehouse. Do you still want to case the club?"  
    There was another pregnant silence in which Wufei thought it over. I began to fidget in impatience; I was not a creature made to sit or stand still for very long. "Yes," Wufei said softly at last, voice firm. "I have a feeling that whatever these 'plasmababies' are, they're more important to find out about than that fucking arms deal. Let OZ and the Treize Faction blow each other to hell and back; this sounds a lot more sinister and deadly. I'll be sure to let you know if I hear anything more."  
    I bit at my lower lip as I digested all of this. Wufei was so serious about this shit that it scared me more than a little—hell, it probably had him scared too. "I understand," I murmured in reply.  
    I detached myself from the shadows and began to head out to the dance floor once again. I changed my mind halfway there and began to head for the small side bar instead, hoping for something to wet my dry mouth and throat. On my way there, I began to wonder about what Wufei had said. What kind of stuff was he talking about? I'd never heard of something as strange as 'plasmababies' before in my life. And let me tell you, I've been around the block a couple hundred times; I've heard plenty of strange shit.  
    With a quickly plastered on smile, I managed to plead dry throat—which was more than true—to the guy that asked me to dance. It might not look like it, but dancing the way I do is thirsty work.  
    From the scent wafting from the glass I snagged, it seemed that someone had spiked the juice supply. Not that it's a big surprise or anything, and it was barely detectable—but, then again, we Gundam pilots are Newtypes, possessed of senses that others don't have. I was probably the only person that could tell there was anything alcoholic in there by scent. Still, I'd need to be sure to have my wits about me tonight…  
    Oh, what the hell! I tossed the drink back, grabbing another and tossing it back as well. I've often noticed that people open up more around a tipsy person. Besides; I kept having this serious case of deja vu every time I looked around the room. I kept thinking that I saw _Heero_ slinking around among the bodies that were out swaying and flowing together with the music that pulsed over the speakers.  
    After about three more drinks, I was ready to rejoin the throng on the dance floor. I was feeling a little bit better thanks to whatever it was that had been dumped in the punch. From the slightly giddy feeling I was having and the fact that my tongue was numb, I was guessing Everclear2.[3]  
    Making my way to the back of the crowd, I noticed a couple standing just outside of the shadows. A male and female, both with black hair though the woman's was curly whereas the man's fell in a tumble of waves. They were both dressed in almost entirely black, the woman wearing a scarlet halter-top under her leather vest and the man a silver button down with a stiff high collar and lace at the end of the sleeves.  
    I'm not sure what exactly it was about them that grabbed my attention. Neither one was really looking in my direction, so it was hard to tell what they looked like. I snuck closer, standing on the fringes of the dancing masses, trying to get a better look and maybe catch what they were saying.  
    From beneath lowered lashes and the fringe of my bangs, I finally got a glimpse of their faces. Both good-looking, early to mid-twenties, and both extremely pale. The woman's eyes were dark and smudged with eyeliner, her lips stained a vivid red that matched her shirt. From the way she held her chin, the challenge that glinted in her eyes, and the confidence that seemed to hover about her, I decided that this was no shrinking violet of a woman. However, when I turned my attention to the man, a chill swept along my spine. There was something about the man that seemed familiar, though I was sure I'd never seen the guy before. Believe me, I would have remembered a face like that. His eyes were a brilliant dark blue, seeming as though they were lit by some inner fire. His face was beautiful both in the classic sense and the sensual sense. It was actually hard for me to decide who was prettier, the woman or the man.  
    "I don't think he's coming," the woman said softly, her gaze flicking up to her companion. She was short, though I was guessing she stood taller than me even without the three-inch heels of her boots.  
    The man chuckled quietly, the sound playing along my spine like a caress. "He will be here, _ma petite_; he will be here."  
    The woman glared up at him, pinching his forearm; apparently not that hard, since the man barely even flinched. "I wish that was one thing that you'd grown out of after all these years; that damned, smug confidence of yours. It really bothers me."  
    The man snorted softly, looking at the woman with bright, dark blue eyes. "Trust me, please. I know that he will be here." Turning his head away slightly, I heard him whisper, "There are things we all wish would have changed after all these years."  
    This was getting interesting. Were they talking about the arms dealer? I wondered. Some insistent, niggling voice told me that they weren't, and that if I were smart I would turn away and forget everything that I'd already heard. That if I heard any more, everything would soon change even more than it already had; it would be beyond the point of no return.   
    But I'd never been famous for my brains, and my curiosity was piqued beyond recall. Far be it for me to ruin my perfect record for landing myself in the most fucked-up of situations.  
    The woman sighed and shook her head. "I just don't want this to be another disappointing wild goose chase for you." From the way she ended her sentence, it sounded as though they'd had this discussion before. She also sounded a bit patronising, but that didn't seem to bother her companion.  
    The man smiled, eyes lidding half way as he placed a kiss on the woman's forehead. "I thank you for your concern, Anita, but it isn't necessary."  
    "You're are _such_ an arrogant bastard, Jean-Claude. You know that, don't you?"  
    The man chuckled again, toying with a lock of blue-black hair that had slipped over his shoulder. "Ah, but that is why you love me so much, is it not? _Je t'aime éternele, ma petite_." His tone was light, teasing, but I sensed an undercurrent to his words that didn't ring true.     "Yeah yeah, whatever. Anyway, I thought I spotted Nathaniel's—"  
    A new song began to play softly over the speakers, catching my attention. It was one of my favourite songs; a revamped version of Metallica's "Of Wolf and Man"' done with a heavy eurobeat. Well, my two suspects had changed the subject anyway, so it wouldn't matter if I stopped to dance to just _one_ song, would it?  
    That's what I thought. Thank you, parliament of Me, Myself, and I, for agreeing.  


_Off through the new day's mist I run  
Off from the new day's mist I have come  
We shift  
Pulsing with the earth  
Company we keep  
Roaming the land while you sleep_

    I slipped out onto the floor, closing my eyes as I let the pulse of the music wrap around me. I could feel the press of bodies around me, the hands that snaked out to touch me as I began to dance. God, there's nothing I love more than the feel of the beat in my veins. Slowly I slid my hands up my body, holding my arms above my head as the beat took off. 

_Shape shift — nose to the wind  
Shape shift — feeling I've been  
Move swift — all senses clean  
Earth's gift — back to the meaning of life_

    I used to have dreams about the kind of things the song talked about. Racing under the darkness of the moon, the song of the earth singing in my veins. Except in my dreams, I'm a lithe panther instead of being a wolf, stalking through the heated jungle in search of my prey. I felt my tongue dart out from between my teeth to lick my dry lips at that thought. 

_Bright is the moon high in starlight  
Chill is the air cold as steel tonight  
We shift  
Call of the wild  
Fear in your eyes  
It's later than you realized_

    I'm used to being touched by other people when I'm out on the floor. It just happens. Hands stray here and there, along with hips and groins. But when a pair of hands grasped my hips and pulled my backside flush with a very masculine body, my eyes flew open, hands reaching for the ones that clutched my hips. "You je—"  
    Lips softly brushed against the juncture of my neck, startling me, breaking me off mid-word. Of course, what came next startled me even more.  
    "You smell good, Duo."  
    Eyes wide, I turned my head slightly in stunned disbelief to stare at my accoster. Half-lidded, dark prussian blue, _hungry_-looking eyes gazed back at me, the lips which had just kissed my neck curved into a small, sensual smile. "Hee-Heero?" I stuttered in disbelief. I felt like I'd just been hit by a fucking semi-truck. Head on. Driving at over Mach 4. Without an airbag.  
    Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Duo has died and gone to heaven. Or hell. As long as Heero was there, who really cared?  
    "Of course," Heero continued softly, eyes holding mine as he bent to lick a slow trail up my neck to my earlobe, which he took between his teeth, nibbling gently, "you taste even better."  
    Breathe. Breathe, Maxwell, breathe! It was hard to remember coherent thoughts, even the all-important ones such as breathing. One thing was for sure, my heart sure as hell hadn't forgotten how to beat! But what the hell was Heero doing here, of all places? And just what the hell was he doing to _me_?  
    "Um, Heero…what are you doing?" I managed to gasp out. Heero wasn't exactly helping me to keep proper thought going. He continued to hold me against him, swaying with the music and grinding into me ever so subtly. Funny, I'd never thought of Heero and 'seductive' as synonymous.  
    Heero chuckled softly, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. "Keeping a low profile, _mon petit_," he whispered against the side of my neck.  
    What the fuck was he talking about? Keeping a low profile for what? "Heero, I don't know what you think you're doing, but—"  
    "Shhh," he murmured, fingers digging into my hips to emphasise the command. Then, when I was about ready to turn around and back hand him, "Do you see that couple over there in the corner? The two with the black hair?"  
    Oh, yeah. Those two. "Yep. Saw them, heard them, got bored. Why?" I asked, still trying to calm my racing heart. Unfortunately, the only semi-coherent thought running around in my head was 'Shit shit shit shit shit' with the occasional 'Hot diggity dog!' thrown in. I think I'd heard that last one on an American cartoon. I think. Like I said, coherency and I were not friends at the moment.  
    Heero laughed again, his hands tightening around my hips and pulling me even closer—if that was actually possible. "Because, Duo, they might possibly have the information that we want."  
    Information we wanted? What was Heero talking about? It was Wufei's and my mission to track down the arms dealer that was supposed to have shown up at the Unseelie Court.  
    Seeing that we were getting a couple funny looks, I wrapped one arm up and around Heero's neck, leaning my head back against his shoulder as I placed my other hand over one of his. As my fingers brushed through the thick hair at the back of his neck, I realised that—for Heero—it had gotten quite long. "What do you mean?" I murmured, continuing to sway against him. God but this was becoming addictive. Some people are addicted to LSD, crack, meth, 'shrooms, alcohol. Me? I was addicted to Heero Yuy. "They didn't say anything about the arms deal."  
    "I know. They aren't in on the deal, but I think they know someone who is."  
    The song ended, but neither Heero nor I were quite ready to untangle ourselves from one another. Heero continued to nuzzle at my neck, distracting me when I knew there was something really important I was trying to remember. "Stop that," I said irritably.  
    "Why?" Heero asked, his hands starting to travel slowly under my shirt against bare skin.  
    I sucked in a breath sharply, turning to give him a heated glare. "Because I'm trying to think and I can't do that with you distracting me!" I snapped.  
    Heero just stared at me, dark blue eyes burning with a curious inner light. Then, much to my surprise, he smiled. He reached out to brush some of my bangs aside, gently tracing a finger down the bridge of my nose and across my bottom lip. "I like your hair; it suits you better."  
    I blinked dumbly. "S-sankyuu," I stuttered. Shit, I didn't know what the hell Heero was doing to me—and that frightened me just a little. I even forgot at the time that I was trying to remember something. It's really disgusting how easily Heero has me wrapped around his little finger, all without knowing it.  
    Then again, maybe he _did_ know it, and he was playing it up for all it was worth. I made a note to myself to smack him for it later, if that was indeed the case.  
    Heero cocked his head to the side as if listening to something, the smile turning predatory. "Wufei is coming," he said softly. "So let's get ready to confront our couple over there."  
    I sighed and shook my head as Heero wrapped an arm around my waist and began to drag me towards the Goth-looking pair. I made a motion for Wufei to follow us; I was going to need all the backup I could get with Heero acting like Lucifer on happy pills, aphrodisiacs, and Prozac. I was seriously beginning to wonder if I was still asleep.  
    But then again, even _my_ dreams have never been this fucked up. I let out another deep sigh, leaning against Heero for support. Yare yare…  


* * *

[1.] I have proof! Check out the _Episode ZERO_ manga to see chibi-Duo with straight hair. I have a shotakon for all of the boys now thanks to that stupid thing… ::sweatdrops:: 

[2.] Can anyone name the show this came from? ^_^ 

[3.] Hey, it's A.C. 195—er, or 196; I haven't decided yet—after all. Who's to say that they couldn't have come up with a second generation of Everclear that's twice as strong? It's a scary thought, but someone's got to ponder it. =^_^= 

[Part 3] 


	3. Part 3

**Blood Dance —**  
Part 3  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for Gundam Wing apply. All of the stuff from the _Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter_ novels belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton. 

Warnings: Language (as per norm), and of course, shounen ai. 

::K'lendel races in with a reversible sign, displaying a lime on one side and a lemon on the other.:: Citrus ahead, minasan! And for some reason, Mina-kaachan says it's my fault. ::Disappears with a cutely confused look.:: 

::Mina waves here own little handy-dandy sign that reads 'It _is_ his fault, because he's my muse!':: Anou, as K'lendel-musuko said, it got citrusy. As if you expected anything else from me, ne? 

* * *

'Yokan'[1] is _not_ usually a word found in my vocabulary, but that was the thought that started running through my head and wouldn't stop. I kept having this premonition of doom as Heero continued to drag me towards the strange pair I'd been eavesdropping on earlier. When Wufei finally got close enough, I grabbed onto his left arm like a school girl at her first horror movie, figuring that if I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to altar of the end of our lives—the proverbial altar, anyway—then so did he. What I really wanted at the moment was another drink, a nice strong one. I mean, I was a little tipsy already, but for some reason I wanted to be three sheets to the wind before we reached our destination.     Wufei shot me a questioning look, one black brow arched in silent query. Thankfully, for once, he didn't make a smart-ass comment. I gave him a pleading look in return, continuing to keep my hands locked around his arm even as Heero continued to "walk" me with him. If I had thought it would save my ass, I would have had a temper tantrum about then. However, Heero seemed rather intent on taking us all to what I was completely sure would be the end of our lives as we knew them.     Much to my disgust, I would eventually be able to say 'I told you so!' very heatedly to everyone.     It was almost as if the man and woman had been expecting us. We were within maybe ten metres of them when they turned almost as one—it was scary as hell to witness, let me tell you—to watch the three of us approach. The man seemed to be amused by my apprehension and the woman… Well, the woman just scowled, pinched the man on the arm, and went back to scowling at us with her hands on her hips.     Heero finally stopped when we were about a metre away from the couple, his arm still like a steal band around my waist holding me firmly in place. Which was probably a good thing since the item at the top of my 'Things to Do' list was to run like hell as fast and as far away as I could.     Sadly, that hellish entity known as fate had other ideas. Bitch.     "Maxwell, what the hell is going on?" Wufei hissed at me irritably, shooting me a glare from underneath wisps of black hair.     Okay, that miffed me. As if this was _my_ fault!     I shook my head, blinking dumbly. "I haven't a fucking clue!" I whispered back. I caught a glint out of the corner of my eye and noticed he was carrying a glass in his other hand. Not caring what the hell was in it, I snatched it from him and tossed the liquid back before he could protest. Gagging and shooting him a shocked look, I handed the glass back. "When the hell'd you start drinking Lemon Hart Demerara Rum?[2]" I asked hoarsely, blinking back tears.     Wufei just gave me an innocent blink of his eyes, tipped the glass back to catch the last few dark drops of liquid, and then returned the glass to his side without answering my question.     Beside me, Heero chuckled as he overheard my comment, and I had to fight back the urge to pinch him. I mean, my throat was still burning like a son of a bitch, my tongue was numb, and I was still trying to keep tears from streaming down my face, but I was certain I could do some damage with a well placed pinch to the forearm.     I blinked at that thought, hazarding another glance at the woman, whom I saw was now smiling at me wryly, as if we were now members of the same secret society. I looked at her, then to the man beside her, and then back at her before I smiled wryly myself. Perhaps we were in the same boat; hanging out with men who managed to annoy the hell out of us constantly. I didn't know if I'd ever like her or anything, but I knew that I definitely understood her.     The man laughed softly again as if he shared Heero's amusement, the sound rolling across my spine like the caress of chinchilla against bare skin. I shivered, unconsciously leaning closer to Heero. How the hell could I _feel_ the guy's laugh? I mean, I'd kind of noticed it earlier, but I'd passed it off as a figment of my imagination. This time, though, I knew it was real.     "So we meet at last, Heero Yuy," the man—Jean-Claude, I think his name was—said, a small smile playing about his lips.     Heero nodded, smiling in return. "I hear that you've been looking for me for quite a long time."     The woman, Anita, snorted at that, tossing her head and sending curls bouncing at her back. "Almost seventeen years isn't all that long," she drawled, throwing me a quick wink. "So I take it this is the boy you've been searching for, Jean-Claude?" She turned her head slightly to address the man, but her dark eyes—bright and cunning eyes that I was sure missed very little if anything at all—were kept trained on the three of us.     Again, understood her…yes. Liked her…I wasn't sure that would ever happen. Something about her seemed off, as if she were _acting_ rather than showing us her real self.     At this point, I was beginning to get over my apprehension and the niggling feeling of fear I'd had earlier. As a matter of fact, I was getting down right angry. Wufei and I had gathered as much information on this little mission as we could—which, I'll admit, hadn't been all that much since it seemed to be very hush-hush—and yet Heero seemed to know more about this than we did and he wasn't bothering to share.     "All right, Heero," I said, craning my head around to glare at the boy whose arm was still wrapped firmly around my waist—and whose fingers were still slowly creeping their way up under my shirt. I tried to squirm away, but I only ended up failing miserably in my attempts, much to Heero's delight. "Can all this high mystery and the 'sore wa himitsu desu' bullshit. What the hell is going on here?" I asked irritably, settling for a pout and a glare as Heero's fingers wandered across my skin and unerringly found my belly button. I let out a startled and extremely undignified eep, which just set Heero off all over again. As he continued to laugh at me and I continued to plot revenge, I absently muttered aloud, "You're such a damned secretive and pushy bastard, you know that?"     Anita blinked and then began to laugh. It was a nice laugh, I suppose; not one of those ultra-high feminine giggles, and not the forced donkey bray that most women I knew had. It was a genuine laugh, that kind of rich, rolling belly laugh that lets you know the owner is sincere in their amusement.     I must admit, it made me rethink my estimation of her a bit. However, my gut instincts had never been wrong before, and I wasn't about to let my guard down completely.     "He's definitely yours," she said at last, gesturing almost absently towards Heero and I.     I frowned in confusion, wondering if she was referring to Heero or myself. But what the hell did she mean by that 'He's definitely yours' bit?     Jean-Claude turned suddenly, focusing his attention on Wufei, whom it should be noted was still pinned firmly in place by my death grip on his arm. And no, I wasn't about to let go any time in the near future. "How is Shenlong, last of the Dragon Clan[3]?" he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.     I glanced at Wufei, feeling even more baffled than before. Wufei's eyes had widened, and his mouth was working like a fish on land. Strange…I think I can count on half of one hand the number of times I'd seen Wufei startled speechless. I would have wanted a camera if the situation we were in wasn't so damn strange.     His face rather pale, Wufei closed his mouth and swallowed audibly before replying. "Shenlong was…quite well…the last time I checked," he said hoarsely. He didn't look at either Heero or me; rather, he stared at Jean-Claude as if he were trying to figure out some secret and he thought he was close to the answer.     Throwing my arms up in the air, I muttered, "Great. Some strange guy has been looking for Heero for seventeen years and now wants to talk Gundams with us as well. And just what the hell do you mean Shenlong was 'quite well'?" I asked, glaring up and over at Wufei. "Shenlong was _totalled_, Wu-man. KOed, obliterated, destroyed, annihilated, demolished, wrecked, _kaboom_! That's how you got Altron, remember?"     Yep, I really needed to quit playing with the thesaurus when I was bored. I knew waaay too many synonyms.     Anita rolled her eyes at my rant. "He's not talking about Gundams, Duo," she said, as if it should have been a matter of course to me. I bristled at her tone; I _hate_ be talked down to—hate, hate, _hate_ it. "Jean-Claude is referring to your friend's pet demon."     Pet demon. Okay, so my friends were off the deep end, and apparently this Anita woman was as well. I mean, you met all sorts of weird people at dance clubs. That would explain Heero's and Wufei's strange behaviour, after all, if Anita and Jean-Claude were complete and utter loony bin residents and my friends were just humouring them to get the information we needed. Yeah, that had to be it.     Unfortunately, everyone but myself seemed to be dead serious about this pet demon shit. "So, when were you going to tell me about your pet demon, Wu-man?" I asked lightly, though I was hoping to Shinigami that my eyes were telling him I really felt otherwise. You know, something kind of like 'As soon as we're alone, I'm going to beat the holy and ever living hell out of you with a large, blunt object until you scream 'Nataku' like a soprano Vienna Choir boy.'[4]     Wufei hung his head, mumbling, "I was hoping that no one would ever find out."     This set Anita off laughing again, only serving to further my belief that she was nuts. "With the people you have for friends, Chang Wufei, it was only a matter of time before things were disclosed."     "Speaking of disclosure," Jean-Claude murmured, turning his head towards the doorway as if looking for something. He must have seen whatever it was he was looking for because he smiled widely, and I would have sworn that I saw a hint of fangs in the strobe light. He then pulled a small business card out from his sleeve, handing it to Heero. "Be here at midnight with your friends."     That was all he said, that one small sentence, and it somehow managed to annoy the hell out of me. Maybe it was because it reminded me just a little too much of Heero. However, I had this feeling that no matter how much I pushed for answers, I wasn't going to get them until later.     "All right," Heero said, accepting the card. "We'll all be there."     Jean-Claude's smile widened, and I was certain this time that those were fangs that were glinting in the poor lighting. "I look forward to it." He then turned to the woman, holding out a slender, long-fingered hand. "Coming, _ma petite_?"     Anita smiled and shook her head. "Give me a moment."     Jean-Claude nodded and turned, making his way through the crowd of dancers and quickly disappearing from my line of sight. When I turned back around, I found myself almost nose to nose with Anita and had to bite back on the yelp that threatened to rise from my throat. Heero let go of me so that if I wanted to take a step back I could, but I was determined not to give ground. Duo Maxwell does not run from women as short as he is, even if they are wearing bitch boots and seem about as sane as Dorothy Catalonia.     It seemed that my tenacity met with approval. Anita smiled, a crooked twist of the lips that drained some of the tension from my body because it seemed so natural and genuine. "I've been looking for you almost as long as Jean-Claude's been looking for your friend, Duo Maxwell, my missing _enfant panthère_."     French. Why the hell was everyone using French today? Was it some new hip thing for everyone to run around babbling things in French? I mean, I had been picking up some words here and there from Trowa[4], but with all of the _Français_ I'd had to deal with today, I was reaching the end of my sooo not extensive vocabulary limit. I knew that _'enfant'_ was baby or child, and I was willing to hazard a wild guess that _'panthère'_ was panther. But yet again I found myself asking what the hell she meant by that.     Me? A baby panther? I snorted and shook my head. Only in my dreams, and rarely even then.     I was about to ask her just what it was she had meant, but when I looked at Anita, I noticed she had that faraway look of someone who was remembering something from the past. I didn't know if that should scare me or not.     I opted for at least being mildly frightened.     "You're a lot like your father," she murmured, reaching out to push my bangs back and reveal my eyes. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to pull away; again, something felt off about her, and it translated into her fingertips. "Same gorgeous looks, same long auburn hair. The only difference is that your eyes are darker." She laughed softly, tipping her head to the side. "It seems you inherited his ability to look like sex and desert in leather, all at the same time."     Her smile abruptly vanished as she pulled her hand back. "I failed your father once, and I promised him that I wouldn't do the same with you. Yet I failed anyway, and you paid for my mistake." She looked at Heero sharply. "I won't fail him again, Heero," she said softly, her voice laced with a warning menace I couldn't fully understand. Then again, I wasn't sure I wanted to.     Heero just smiled softly and nodded, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. "I understand."     Anita smiled thinly. "Good."     "However…"     Anita had turned to leave, but stopped short when Heero spoke.     His eyes had narrowed, but his tone didn't waver from the almost light-hearted banter he'd used before. "However, Anita, he is also mine to protect—they all are. And I won't fail them."     Something passed between them at that moment that made me shiver, something dark and dangerous. But Anita smiled as if nothing had happened, nodding her head. "I see." She then turned on her heal and walked—well, more like _stalked_—across the dance floor. I say stalked because you can't walk in bitch boots; you have to move in the damn things like you know exactly what you're doing and you know you look like god's gift to humanity while you're doing it.     I rubbed at my throbbing temples in confusion, leaning heavily against Wufei. "Does someone want to bother explaining what the hell is going on here?" I whimpered.     Heero just laughed again, which had me wishing for a gun to shoot the highly amused bastard. If I used some thing with a low calibre, say a .22, then I could probably shoot him several times before I killed him. Then again, if went with Trowa's 386 Winchester I could just put one _big_ hole in the middle of Heero's forehead and it would all be over with then and there.     No, wait, I reminded myself before I got too trigger-happy. I'd been pissed the first time he'd died. Wouldn't it sort of be counter-productive to go and kill him again? It was extremely tempting, let me tell ya, but I managed to suppress those baser instincts of mine rather well, if I do say so myself.     "Things will be a bit clearer after tonight, _mon petit_," Heero chuckled, brushing his fingers gently against my cheek. "But for now we need to contact Quatre and Trowa."     "Yeah, yeah," I grumbled. Just to be ornery and contradictory, I thought about sitting down on the floor and refusing to move. However, I allowed Wufei—my sexy, Chinese, Gundam pilot friend with the pet demon, whom I was currently picturing as an extremely attractive castrati since he'd lied to me—to lead me towards the entrance of the Unseelie Court without protest.     Have I mentioned lately that I think I woke up in the Twilight Zone? 

* * *

I knew things were really bad when I was relieved to see Quatre. It's not that I don't like him; I love the guy like a brother. But I was still pissed at him over that herbal stuff he'd drugged me with a couple weeks back, even though I'd finally grudgingly given in to his puppy looks and Trowa's verbal pleas and returned to speaking terms with the little neo-hippie punk. I threw myself at him like a ninny schoolgirl and clung to him like the proverbial limpet, even though he still wasn't my favourite person at the moment. I was certain that of all my friends, though, Quatre would be able to make sense out of the night's insanity. Right? Right. 

    Somehow, I had a feeling I was going to eat those words—without condiments.     "Quatre, I don't think I've ever been so glad to see you in my life!" I said, hands fisted in his jacket front. "Please tell me that you're normal, please tell me that you're normal. Please be normal!" I gave him a small shake, eyes wide and pleading as I looked up at him.     Yeah, I know. Pathetic. But when the situation merits, I'm not above begging in order to keep my sanity. Well, what's left of my sanity anyway. Have I mentioned before that I'm told there wasn't much to begin with?     Here, sanity… Here, sanity… Stupid thing ran away again. Hmph.     Quatre arched a golden eyebrow at my near hysterical pleading, glancing at first Heero, then Wufei. "Is he drunk?" he asked, referring to my illustrious self, of course.     Wufei shook his head. "If any of us were to qualify as drunk, it would be me." He frowned consideringly, as if he were trying to recall whether he'd seen me drink anything other than that glass of Lemon Hart Demerara Napalm—er, Rum—I'd stolen from him. "Well, he might be drunk, but definitely not as drunk as me, and that's not what his problem is anyway."     Quatre chewed his bottom lip in thought. Quatre just looks so cute and innocent when he's thinking. He gets that little furrow in his forehead, and his eyes narrow intently with pale brows drawn over them. Then he gets all pouty lipped and his nose wrinkles; it makes you either want to reach out and pinch his cheeks and coo, or lean over and kiss those lips that are just asking for it. Of course, then Quatre opens his mouth and ruins the whole innocent act. "Is he high? Have you eaten any unlabeled mushrooms tonight, Duo?"     Heero smiled and shook his head. "No; there've been no drugs for Duo. And I don't think he's had anything to eat either."     '…No drugs for Duo…' If I hadn't been clinging to Quatre like a barnacle I would have decked Heero for that. And I would have decked Quatre for the mushroom question, too. It was really unnecessary, though I guess I could understand where he was coming from. My behaviour was a bit…irrational…even for me, and I was feeling high as a kite anyway, so I guess I wouldn't have needed the help of any drugs. But, still! It was the principle of the matter, ya know.     Sighing and raking a hand through his pale blonde hair, Quatre finally threw out as a token possibility, "He discovered that he doesn't live in Kansas anymore?"     I wilted at that, my mind freezing at the horrible possibilities that were dancing in my head. Quatre was making _Wizard of Oz_ comments, and he _knew_ how much I was traumatised by that movie. He also knew how I would interpret that remark, because in my book someone who doesn't live in Kansas can only be one thing: not normal. Heero wasn't normal…Wu-man wasn't normal…_Quatre_, of all people, wasn't normal… I was sure that I'd soon be finding out that Trowa wasn't normal, either. And I was seriously beginning to wonder if that meant that _I_ wasn't normal, too.     I'd never believed in miracles before, and I wasn't sure that they existed seeing as how I'd never seen one and I'm not exactly what one would call a devout Christian, but a small part of me was hoping that I had been wrong in my assumption and that the miracle I needed would occur any moment now.     Slowly I let go of Quatre's jacket and shuffled towards my bed in our ramshackle safe house. I'd be the first to admit that I've never exactly lived a normal life, but today had been just beyond strange—even for _me_. I looked up towards the ceiling wistfully. "I'm ready to wake up now, Shinigami."     My miracle was taking too long.     Trowa chose that moment to walk into the room. He glanced at me curiously, cocking his head to the side in a fashion that I normally would have found adorable. "Is there some reason that Duo's conversing with himself?"     I gave a half-hearted sigh, tugging on my ponytail while I looked up at Trowa. "You don't have to tell me that you're not normal," I informed him dully. "I already know that you're not normal like them."     Trowa glanced at the other pilots in confusion. "What's Duo talking about?" he asked softly.     Much to my disgust, it was Wufei that grinned and said in a much too happy and enthusiastic voice, "Duo just found out that people aren't necessarily what they seem." He snickered, then added in a lilting falsetto, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Then he broke into a rendition of "We're Off to See the Wizard" with Quatre, the two of them linking arms and cackling like a pair of mad hatters as they danced around in a circle. Of course, they severely butchered the lyrics, singing something about dead bodies, a faerie, and wonderful carnage instead.     I growled and threw my pillow at them, glaring at all four of them darkly from underneath my bangs. "Not funny." Sometimes I think the only relationship I share with my fellow pilots is a love-hate one; they love to tease and torment me—which I hate—and _I_ love to plot revenge—which they hate.     Sadly, my remark just set Wufei off again. He leaned heavily against Quatre, one arm thrown over Quatre's shoulders. "If it's not funny, then why am I laughing?" he asked, dissolving once more into hyena laughter at the look on my face.     Flopping back down on my bed in disgust, I threw one arm over my face in the hopes that that old saying of 'Out of sight, out of mind' would come true. "I give up," I muttered. At that moment, I just wanted to keel over and die. Okay, so maybe I didn't want to do anything that drastic—well, not anymore—but considering the company I keep, I had a feeling that was the only way I'd get any peace and quiet.     "You can't give up just yet, Duo," Heero said softly, settling beside me on the bed.     "Why's that?" I asked warily, moving my arm so I could see him better. I wasn't sure I wanted to be this close to Heero with the way he'd been acting all night. Lucifer…happy pills…Prozac…aphrodisiacs… No, I really didn't think I wanted to be this close to Heero. Give me a ten-foot gundanium pole, gundanium armour with lots of padding, a mouth guard, and a chastity belt and I might risk it.     Heero gave me a small smile, touching a finger to my bottom lip. "Because Duo Maxwell doesn't give up without a fight. And we are going to have a fight on our hands if we want to prevent this arms deal from going down."     Confused, me? Nah.     Okay, so I lied. I was about as confused as if Dorothy had come up to me, professed her undying love, revealed she was _actually_ human, and then tap danced and yodelled in lederhosen. Does that give you a hint as to how confused I was?     Thought so.     "I take it that there's an underground faction within OZ that's purchasing these weapons?" Wufei asked when the silence had begun to drag on.     Quatre shook his head, motioning Trowa over to his side. "It's more than OZ, Wu," he said softly, and something flashed in his aqua eyes when he said it that sent a shiver down my spine. "The Treize Faction has been sniffing around in places that they shouldn't as well. That's why Trowa and I came back early."     Wufei's eyes seemed to get impossibly wide and I couldn't help but laugh at his expression. It was yet another Kodak moment without a camera in sight. "Shit!" Wufei snarled. "Are you saying that there are Shadowkind…?"     Trowa nodded his head once, a sharp gesture that was unusual for him. "We were unable to tell if the Shadowkind are actual members of the Treize Faction, or if they are just outsiders helping Treize's loyal followers out."     After about the one-hundredth time craning my head to look at everyone in turn, I was getting quite a crick and quite annoyed. "Everyone hold up just a Jupiter revolution here," I snapped. Me, pissy? Hell yeah. I hated it when everyone talked over my head; I'd hated it since I was a little kid living on the streets. Yet the whole night it had seemed as though everyone was talking not only over my head, they were talking, like, ionosphere-level over my head. "Would someone for Shinigami's sake take the time to at least tell me what the fuck a Shadowkind is?" And no, I did _not_ ask nicely. You want nice, go play with Relena Darlian-Peacecraft.     Trowa looked at Quatre, Quatre looked at Wufei, Wufei looked at Heero, and Heero looked back at Trowa. Yeah, we were getting nowhere reeeal fast. At this rate, I was going to have my question answered after I started my first round of arguments with Shinigami over the ice rinks in hell.     Wufei suddenly grinned, and as I took in that wolfish expression I had this insane urge to run screaming into the dead of night for the nearest bar—just so I could snag a bottle or two of Pucker—and then head for a dark hole where I could hide for the rest of my life. "I'll take Trowa and Quatre off into the living room and fill them in on what we found out," he said to Heero. "Meanwhile, why don't you answer Maxwell's question? He's going to be an absolute…cat…to live with until you do."     Apparently something in there was part of some shared joke that I obviously did not get, since it had all four of my lunatic friends howling with laughter—well, Trowa wasn't howling with laughter, but he _was_ snickering quite obviously. I would have started screaming obscenities, but I knew it would just put more fuel on the fire, so to speak.     "Yes, yes," Heero said, wiping tears of laughter from his face as he motioned for Wufei, Quatre, and Trowa to leave. "I'll fill the impatient one in as much as allowed."     Impatient one. Well, it was an improvement over short jokes—and at least he'd said it in Japanese and not _en Français_. 

"All right, start explaining," I demanded once the door was closed and Heero and I were, in effect, left alone in our shared bedroom. Heero didn't say anything; he just continued to stare at me with this curiously intent expression that had me slooowly creeping backwards on my bed until my back met the wall. 

    Heero smiled at me after a moment, a small, subtle stretching of the lips that had me near breathless. You have to understand that Heero, like, _never_ smiles. He smirks, he scowls, he frowns, he bares teeth like a wolf, but I think I can count on half of one hand the number of times I've seen him really smile.     That was part of what had drawn me to Heero in the first place. In him I saw so very much of myself that it was almost frightening, and yet we had chosen two completely opposite ways of dealing with things. I might be accused of being nothing more than a shallow, smiling joker, but that's the mask I chose to use in order to continue living. Sometimes I wasn't sure how Heero managed to go on, because sometimes, the only thing saving me from finding my own death was my false smile, my false promise to all those faceless, nameless people out there to keep being happy—on the outside, at least.     And that was part of the reason I'd taken it so hard when Heero had died. I guess I'd kind of taken it for granted that he'd be around as long as I was, that he'd be there to lie right along with me…that I wouldn't have to live through the hell of the war as alone as I had originally thought I would.     Maybe I was dead, or maybe this was a weird Twilight Zone dream like I'd thought, because the last time I'd seen Heero smile at me like that was in the last communication we'd shared before his suicide-mission. I remember telling myself that when he came back, I'd sit him down and tell him about how I felt. I was tired of only being able to hold him in order to comfort him from the nightmares of his past demons; I wanted to be able to take so much more comfort from him, and to give so much more to the sullen boy who had stolen my heart without my realising it.     "Duo…"     I looked up in surprise, blinking a few times to clear my thoughts. Heero had scooted closer, laying one hand on my knee in an effort to gain my attention. His expression had turned a bit worried, the smile that I had been admiring gone. "Smile for me again," I urged, my voice thick even to my ears. In case you hadn't guessed, I was past my anger with Heero. It's kind of sickening the effect he has on me, but I'm starting to accept it—albeit grudgingly.     …Kind of like how I'm _grudgingly_ accepting the fact that Wufei is really, really attractive, in more than a platonic sense.     Maybe it's because I love Heero. But then again, what do I really know about love? Can you really love someone that you're not sure you even know? And was the relationship that Heero and I shared one that could really be called 'love'? If you went by the Greek description of a relationship between two men, in which the elder, the teacher, took the title of 'erastes' and the younger, the pupil, took the title of 'eromenos,' I wasn't sure where Heero and I would fit in. Because of our backgrounds, the way we grew up, it's almost as if we occupy both positions at the same time. Now how's _that_ for weird?     Heero moved even closer so that we were side-by-side, arm pressed against arm, thigh pressed against thigh. And I allowed him to without protest. Even though Heero manages to annoy the ever-living hell out of me, I sometimes wonder if that isn't part of his attraction for me. Because unlike most boys and girls I'd associated with in my short life, Heero didn't fall for me at first meeting, or even the second one. Hell, it wasn't until we'd all met up again about three months after his self-destructing Wing Gundam that he'd even verbally acknowledge our friendship.     Heero's arm slipped around my shoulders, drawing me closer still. I laid my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes with a sigh. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a touchy-feely person, because I was. As far back as I can remember I'd craved the attention of others; a touch to the shoulder here, a caress to the hair there… There had been moments in my past where the only way I was going to keep on living was to turn tricks, and I'm nothing if not a survivor. But much to my disgust, I'd _liked_ turning tricks, because it gave me the attention I wanted—needed—so badly.     What had scared me so much about Heero's behaviour tonight was because while _I_ might be a touchy-feely person, Heero usually was not. I mean, he'd been more receptive since coming back from the dead, but before that he'd only let me hold him in the dark. I don't know what it was—is—that Heero has nightmares of, because he's never told me, but it wasn't until I made it quite clear that I didn't mind him crawling into my bed for comfort that he'd accept the help I offered.     "What are you thinking about?" Heero asked me softly, resting his head atop mine.     "The past…and about you…" I sighed, opening my eyes. "I was wondering if today was just some strange dream that I'd been given in retribution of all that alcohol I drank last night."     He laughed softly at that, arm tightening around my shoulders briefly. "It's not a dream," he told me.     "Are you sure?" I asked with another sigh, rubbing my face against his neck like a cat. His skin was soft and warm, and I had the insane urge—insane because it would probably get me knocked into next year and a permanent stay in the ICU—to turn and trace my tongue along his jaw line. But I squashed that tempting urge and settled for expressing my thoughts verbally. "Because this is how you are in my dreams. Only in my dreams to you let me touch you…taste you."     Heero sucked in a sharp breath, and I could feel a fine tremor run through his body. Was it a tremor of fear? I wondered. Could it be that Heero's behaviour tonight had been the sign I was waiting for, that he actually did desire me as more than a friend? "You don't know what you're saying, Duo," he said quietly, he voice thick and tight sounding in my ears. "You've had quite a bit to drink tonight, and last night, and you've also worked—"     I began laughing softly, pulling back away from him. In his voice I could hear his desire, hear that he wanted me—and that more than anything filled me with a heady power. I looked at Heero from beneath lowered lashes, assessing his features in the faint overhead light. The slightly longer hair suited him, as did the earring—hell, as did the whole fucking outfit! But it was his eyes that I was drawn to, like a moth dancing with the burning glow of a flame. I gave him a small smile, pushing him over backwards onto my bed, slowly crawling up his hard, lean frame until we were nose to nose.     "Tell me you don't want me," I whispered huskily, eyes boring into his. I kissed the end of his nose, his chin, down his jaw line until I came to his ear. "Tell me you don't want to kiss me." I licked the outer shell of his ear, blowing gently. I laughed when he shuddered beneath me, arms coming up of their own volition to pull me closer into the thrust of his hips. "Tell me you don't want to touch me." I kissed and nibbled my way down the side of his arched neck, lips forming a seal against the throbbing artery at the base of his neck. Heero's fingers dug into my back, his soft cries spurring me on. "Tell me you don't want to fuck me." I went for his ear again, tugging the lobe between my teeth, tongue slowly working the earring in a parody of what I wanted Heero to be doing to me.     I was making a dare of sorts. I was daring Heero to deny what I'd finally managed to put into vocal words. And I was hoping that he was up to the challenge of proving my words wrong.     I guess this was kind of what they deem 'the point of no return'… Hell, screw that, I was past the point of caring either way. Jean-Claude, Anita, Wufei's pet demon, the Shadowkind…as far as I was concerned, they were nonexistent…though Wufei did seem to linger a bit longer in my mind than the rest. They could go to hell—no, they could take over the Earth and the colonies for all I cared. I'd been pretty much celibate over the past year plus, once I'd figured out how much I wanted Heero, and now that I had him right where I wanted him… I don't know if a saint could have resisted the temptation of Heero beneath them, but I sure as hell wasn't a saint.     "Duo…"     "What?" I whispered, tongue tracing its way to the dip below his adam's apple. The slight salty tang of his skin combined with the scents of mulberry, cinnamon, and gunpowder, which were uniquely Heero, was nearly overwhelming.     Much to my surprise, I suddenly found myself flat on my back, a bright eyed, wickedly smiling Heero straddling my hips. "I want you," he said softly, one hand slowly slipping up my shirt and across my abdomen as he slid up my body. I shivered in response, eyes falling closed and mouth falling open. "I want to kiss you," he murmured against my lips. His thumb flicked across my nipple, sending a shiver spark of sensation through me even as his lips descended upon mine voraciously, swallowing the groan that was wrenched from my throat. I opened my mouth eagerly, yoking my arms around his neck as our tongues twined.     Heero was awfully good at the seduction bit, a small corner of my mind noted. I wondered briefly where he'd picked up that interesting talent, but I was soon occupied with much more captivating things.     "I want to touch you," Heero growled, pushing my shirt up and latching his hot, very insistent mouth around first one bared nipple, then the other. I buried my fingers in the thickness of Heero's hair, biting my lip to keep from crying out. The last thing I needed was everyone running back to see what was going on and interrupt us. If anyone interrupted us now, I just might kill them.     "Is that all?" I asked in a pant when Heero's mouth continued to track downward. I should have known from the smile, from the glint in his bright prussian eyes that there was more in store. But I needed the admission from him; I needed to hear him say the words.     And say the words he eventually did. He slipped one knee between my legs, then the other, mouth unerringly finding mine again. His tongue danced along my teeth, across the roof of my mouth, and still it wasn't enough.     I twined one leg around his, tugging on his belt loops so that his full weight came crashing down against me—and boy oh boy, was I not sorry. I'd the beginnings of a hard on all night, ever since I'd caught sight of Heero in leather (and, if I was honest with myself, when I'd seen Wufei later), and as soon as the door handle had clicked closed, effectively leaving me alone with Heero, that which had been barely their had come to life with startling speed. However, I wasn't sure how into this—into _me_—Heero was, at least, not until I felt the hardness of his arousal throbbing against my own.     Let's hear it for the Wing ZERO Gundam pilot's burning single-mindedness!     "I want to fuck you, Duo," Heero said harshly against my lips. "I want you to scream my name as I take you and mark you as mine."     I whimpered, nipping at his bottom lip and drawing it into my mouth. "Promise?" I panted.     Heero pulled his head back, lips tracking down the side of my neck. I could feel the tickle of hair as he nodded, his teeth nipping insistently against the meaty juncture of shoulder and neck. I was in the process of moving my hands downward to untuck Heero's shirt from his pants when that oh-so-dreaded interruption that I'd been hoping _wouldn't_ occur, occurred.     We both stilled at the small, polite cough from the doorway. I groaned in disbelief, even as Heero turned with a snarl to tell our _very_ unwelcome visitor to get out.     Quatre stood casually in the doorway, ankles crossed carelessly, leaning with one arm propped up above his head. His relaxed pose made me wonder just how long he'd been standing there. "Sorry to…bother…you," he said with a quiet laugh, "but it's nearly eleven. We need to get going if we're going to reach our rendezvous by midnight." He gave me a wink and splayed his fingers in a victory sign when Heero wasn't looking, and then turned and disappeared back down the hall.     Why was it that everyone thought that Quatre was the nice, innocent one among us? I think he's the most sadistic—barring myself, of course. Although I was gradually learning that Quatre could give me some very interesting pointers in that department.     I couldn't help reflecting as I gathered my jacket, fixed my hair, and made sure that Heero hadn't messed up the makeup, that my night hadn't gone well at all. I still hadn't found out what a Shadowkind was, and—most disappointing of all to my nearly seventeen-year-old, hormone-driven body—I hadn't gotten laid.     If things didn't get better soon, I was going to kill something. No, no—_torture_ something. Yesss, the blood and screaming and flayed skin would definitely help to ease my mood. Either that, or I'd just get all hot and bothered again, and then I'd be back at square one.     Being a teenager really sucks. 

* * *

Because the meeting place was halfway across town, we decided to take the subway. Why the subway, you ask? Well, we could have taken a taxi, or even just stolen a vehicle I suppose, but according to Quatre, we were doing our best to blend in. _'We need to look and behave like normal civilians would.'_ There was kind of a slight problem with that; I'd never been a normal civilian, so how the hell was I supposed to act like one? And I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out what or whom Quatre considered a normal civilian. 

    I glanced at him with a raised eyebrow when he and Trowa settled beside me on the seat. "Normal civilians?" I asked, noting his and Trowa's outfits. Somehow I'd never thought of Quatre as a braided and sequined vest and harem pants kind of person, but there he was in all of his Arabian Nights' glory. At least he'd picked a good colour in dark teal. Of course, once you got a good look at Trowa's outfit… Trowa's almost as bad at the whole monotone wardrobe thing as Heero is. Maybe more so since the only time he changes clothing schemes is when he's undercover or performing at the circus. But I must say that the metallic green fishnet-mesh did wonders for his eyes, and those long legs of his encased in first black leather pants and then matching knee high boots…     Ho-kay, the blood was all flowing to the wrong part of my anatomy tonight. If I didn't say some smart-ass comment soon, I thought I might turn into a gibbering pile of jell-o. Oh, wait; I'd been doing my gibbering pile of jell-o impression all night. Well, it was more than past time for a change then.     "Does your sister know that you go out in public like that?" I asked Trowa lightly. Oh, and I was talking about his choice of accessories, not of clothing. I don't think that Catherine would have minded the clothes, but the collar she probably would have objected to very…pointedly.     I love a person that can wield knives with talent.     Trowa shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's a full moon tonight."     "No, really?" I gasped sarcastically. I never would have guessed that the big, spherical yellow-orange thing hanging up there in the sky amongst those little pricks of light that were stars was the full moon. I had absolutely no fucking clue as to how the hell the full moon bit was supposed to explain his wearing the collar, though. I must admit, however, that it was an interesting collar to say the least. It looked like some weird sort of claw collar, and it was quite big. "Are you hoping he'll grow into that thing or something?" I asked Quatre, gesturing to the collar.     Quatre laughed and shook his head, the leather leash slipping through his fingers. Can you believe that the collar even had a leash? And not just one of those wimpy patent leather bits that you can buy down at any old sex toyshop; this was the real deal. Six feet of black-dyed, re-enforced stitching up both sides, two-ply genuine cowhide—with a swivel, steel bull-snap, of course.     "You'll probably understand by the end of the night, Duo," he told me, that mysterious twinkle that I hate so damn much flashing in his eyes. He then turned away from me, reaching up and running his fingers through Trowa's hair, smiling when the Heavyarms pilot leaned into his hands.     It was time to look at something else; pilots zero-three and zero-four were getting touchy-feely and I didn't want to watch. I've got a number of titles under my belt, and 'Voyeur Extraordinaire' is not one of them—and I'm not looking to put it their, either.     Unfortunately, when I averted my gaze I ended up focusing on Wufei, who was sitting directly across from me with a grin on his face as wide as the Tallgeese had been high. "What?" I asked sharply, scowling and narrowing my eyes. I was willing myself to look menacing, but I must have been failing miserably if Wufei's lack of expression change was any indication.     "I was just wondering something," Wufei said quietly, gaze flicking briefly to Heero who sat beside him before settling on me again.     "And what would that be?" I asked warily.     Wufei didn't say anything aloud; he just mouthed the words to me. I flushed bright red, squirming in my seat. I glanced at Heero who gave me a small smile before going back to reading his sheaf of printouts. No help there. I wondered if he had seen what it was that Wufei mouthed to me. I wondered how he would have reacted if he had.     _'Was it good?'_     I wondered if Quatre had told him about finding Heero and me in a state of dishabille back in our bedroom. Somehow I didn't think Quatre had, and once again that left me faced with the notion that Wufei had an uncanny way of finding out about things that had happened to either Heero or myself. Of course, that also left me wondering why the hell Wufei cared.     For some odd reason, I really did _not_ want to think about the various possibilities that topic held—it was disconcerting enough that I kept realising how attractive he was. I turned my gaze to the wall, determined to stare at the tiny red lettering the rest of the way to our station stop. Couldn't tell you what the tiny red lettering spelled because I was basically looking at it cross-eyed in an effort to keep from looking at anyone else. 

Well, I'd succeeded. I'd made it to the station stop alive and I hadn't looked at any of my friends the rest of the trip. Let's hear it for good-old fashioned Maxwell-stubbornness! 

    I glanced at the building before me, whistling in appreciation. Jean-Claude might be a complete and utter lunatic, but he sure could pick meeting places. It was an uptown café on the west side of New Kobe, and it somehow managed to blend sophistication with a darker, slightly gothic look to near perfection. The street front glass was tinted so dark that you could barely make out shadowy figures inside. However, the sign—which read Féeriques Coteau—was done in soft blue neon, and numerous, tiny white lights hung like delicate icicles around the sign and over the tops of the windows.     "Nice place," I whispered to Wufei as we opened the door and stepped inside, looking around the room. The chair and booth fabric was a dark cobalt blue with black and silver embroidery, the wood accents around the room as well as the furniture were done in a wonderfully dark cherry wood, and the slim, metal tooling that decorated the walls were done in silver. All in all, it was quite a pretty café.     Until you tipped your head upwards, that is. When you looked up at the ceiling the room took on a whole other appearance. The ceiling was covered in an ornate painting of what appeared to be a woman—a woman who looked an awful lot like that Anita chick we'd met earlier—surrounded on all four sides by varying groups of—well, _monsters_. Behind her back appeared to be a group of the living dead; to her right large panthers and half-men, half-panthers; to her left a group of large wolves and half-men, half-wolves; and in front of her—I was going by the amount of blood on their faces and the large canines—a group of vampires.     "Yeah, it's great all right," Wufei said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at my rapt expression. "I'll have to have the artist do my home, as well."     It was about then that I noticed the redhead standing a few meters away. He was quite gorgeous, with pale skin, blood red hair, and dark emerald green eyes that rivalled Trowa's in intensity. But there was something about him that seemed…wrong. It was the same wrongness that I had sensed in Jean-Claude earlier.     The man came over to us, winding his way through the tables like a stalking cat, unerringly stopping just in front of Quatre. He looked Quatre over from head to toe, head tipping to the side as his gaze finally settled on Quatre's face. The redhead frowned suddenly as Quatre continued to gaze at him unwaveringly, a small smile quirking my blonde friend's lips. "What are you?" he finally asked Quatre, eyes narrowing.     I was kind of hoping that Quatre would answer the guy, since I'd been wondering that little question myself for some time now. I mean, I'm the guy's friend and he won't tell me, so I was guessing that he wouldn't tell the redhead. But a Gundam pilot who thinks he's an incarnation of Death can hope, can't he?     Quatre just smiled—that little, smirk-like twist of the lips that usually meant you weren't going to like the answer—and said, "Sore wa himitsu desu."     I couldn't help it. I started laughing hysterically, and if it hadn't been for Trowa's timely intervention, my face would have become intimate with the polished, hardwood floor.     "Is something wrong with your friend?" the redhead asked Quatre, peering over at me curiously.     "Yeah," I replied, wiping the tears that had slipped down my cheeks away with the back of one hand. I continued to lean heavily on Trowa, not sure if my own feet were ready to support me yet. "Yeah, I found out that I don't live in Kansas anymore, and I'm still having a hard time adjusting to that little fact."     The man blinked in confusion, the expression on his face one of 'I'm really curious, but I don't think I want to ask.' Which was a good thing since I didn't want to bother explaining. I wasn't sure I _could_ explain.     "I am Damian, and I have been asked to escort you back to my masters," the redhead said softly after a moment, eyes continuing to slide towards Quatre every so often. I was guessing that he was more than a little bit interested in my blonde friend. I wondered what Trowa would have to say about that.     "Masters?" Wufei asked, arching a black eyebrow. "As in, you have more than one?"     Damian sighed, as if he had been forced to make the explanation several hundred times. "Yes, I have more than one master. Do not question me further, for I cannot say anything more."     Heero nodded, motioning for us to do as Damian had said. "Got it. Take us to your masters."     'Take us to you masters' sounded an awful lot like that old cliché of 'take us to your leader' from old B-rated alien movies. Now I was starting to wonder if I was in a B-rated monster flick.     Damian smiled slightly at that, turning and motioning for us to follow him.     I trailed behind everyone, letting Heero and Wufei take point, and Quatre leading his leash-bound Trowa take the middle. I hated taking rearguard in any situation; it's just not my place of choice. But I was nervous about going deeper into Féeriques Coteau, and I figured that I could check the buckles on my bracers to make sure that the quick release sheaths would work the way they were supposed to. Why did I have the feeling that I was walking in the depths of a café of lunatics?[5] I don't know—maybe the company I keep just has me needlessly paranoid.     Somehow, I didn't think that was the case. 

* * *

[1]. 'Yokan' means sign, omen, or premonition. 

[2]. Lemon Hart Demerara Rum… ::gag, retch:: The stuff's got 151 proof (that's 75.5 percent alcohol in case you didn't know), has the kick of a shod Belgian draft horse, burns like there's no tomorrow, and no matter how hard you try you can't dilute it in soda or juice. I rate it up there with straight Cuervo for pure nastiness. 

[3]. Okay, I've finally decided that this takes place in A.C. 196, kind of late in the year, actually. So this means that Wufei's clan and colony are gone—KABOOM!—and though he wasn't a Long biologically (I guess he could have been on his mother's side), he's the last relation of the Long clan, which can _in theory_ make him the last of the Dragon Clan. Plus, I figure his earlier marriage to Long Meiran would help in those familial ties, and that's the basis I've used for Wufei's unusual ::blink, blink:: condition. 

    As far as I've got it figured, the Eve Wars never happened and Zechs never met up with Quinze and White Fang. It's kind of a stalemate universe: Relena is still the figurehead of the Romefeller Foundation and has been for almost a year and a half thanks to Dorothy's ::cough, cough:: help and support; Treize is still in seclusion while his supporters in the Treize Faction continue to war with OZ; Barge is still around and Lady Une is still missing; Zechs is up in space with Howard and the Peacemillion, though no one is sure exactly where—and yes, Epyon is somehow with him as well; and Colonel 'Yes-Mr.-Chief-Mechanic-Sir' Tubarov it still around too, though not for very long since he annoyed the ever living hell out of me in both versions of GW. 

[4]. My parents used to love to regale me with stories about living in Europe, and one of the ones I remember the most was the story about the Vienna Boys' Choir. Apparently not all that long ago, the sopranos (the really good, pure—and I'm talking voice, not morality—ones) were castrated in order to keep their voices. ::blink, blink:: Well, isn't there some saying about music being an art, and artist's suffering for their art? 

[5]. Before you yell at me that Trowa isn't French, see my defence of _why_ he is French in "Just Kidding." And, hey, even if he's _not_ French, he _was_ a mercenary. ::Mina reverts to watery-eyed chibi-Demonchild mode.:: Mercs pick up all sorts of handy-dandy talents no da! 

[6]. For those of you who haven't read the _Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter_ books, _The Lunatic Café_ is the name of the fourth novel in the series. Yes, I was being corny and cliché. Do I care? …Not in the least. ^_^ 

[Part 4] 


	4. Part 4

**Blood Dance —**  
Part 4  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Gundam Wing_ apply. All characters from the _Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter_ universe are the property of Laurell K. Hamilton. However the plot—I know, I know… 'What plot?!'—belongs to me. 

Warnings: ::yawn:: No warnings needed for this fic. It's just a gentle, fluffy little tale of light-hearted banter and affection. ::blink, blink:: Whoa, where'd _that_ come from?! Where's my medication? Need my medication! ::Mina scampers off to take her pills.:: Okay, all better! This fic contains foul language, G-boys in leather, bondage, blood, fur, fangs, vampires, faeries, lycanthropes, and a partridge in a pear tree. 

P.S. And since this is a fic by me, it contains homosexual themes as well. ::eye roll:: Like I even needed to tell you that. 

P.P.S Anou, just ta let ya know, there's a little note from me about this particular part at the end of the footnotes. I couldn't put it up here because it would give away what happens. ^_~ 

Posted: January 2001  
Revised: August 2002  


* * *

After walking down a darkened stairway and then a seemingly never ending tunnel that had more twists and turns than a Sidewinder—by the illumination of _torch_ light, of all things—I was beginning to wonder if my B-rated monster flick comment hadn't been a little too accurate. We had the spooky, pale, silent guide up ahead, as well as my equally as strange friends—one of which I now knew had a pet demon, and another had something going on with the moon. The torchlight flickered off of the grey stones of the underground passageway, only helping to enhance the whole B-rated monster flick theory.     Of course, when Damian finally led us to the door at the end of the tunnel and opened it, my opinion changed drastically.     When I stepped through the doorway into that room at the end of the tunnel, it was like stepping into some sort of fairytale. Not the kind of fairytale that parents tell their little children, mind you, but I could definitely see an adult fairytale written about this. The room was a combination of Marquis de Sade, House of Style, Tokugawa Shogunate, and Middle-earth.     Seriously. I kid you not.     "Love the decor," Wufei said with a snicker, casting a glance back at me. I snickered right along with him; I was in perfect agreement.     The numerous half-naked bodies sprawled around it aided the appearance of the room. All right, so only about half of them were less-than-fully-clothed, but _that_ half was half too many. Some of the people were in leather, some in silk, some in faded denim. There was one guy in a three-piece Armani suit in the far right corner, two men in elaborate hakama set-ups that were á la Tokugawa Shogunate samurai, and a girl in a little scrap of shimmering, nearly translucent cloth that I had absolutely no idea how to categorise.     Then again, I wasn't sure I _wanted_ to try and categorise her and her skimpy attire.     "Gee, Duo, this looks almost like your room," Quatre commented, giving me a wicked grin. "Except with bodies in the clothes."     I casually flipped him the bird and made my way closer to Heero and Wufei. "So are we here to watch the mass orgy of…whatever…or are we moving on?" I asked, glancing briefly at our guide.     Damian smiled slightly at this and made a small gesture with his hand. "We will be continuing onward. My masters await you further inside."     A tiny little girl came racing into the room from the direction we'd come in, skidding to a halt on the stone floor. She placed her hands on her knees as she huddled over to try and catch your breath. After a moment she held her hand out to me, beaming up at me disarmingly. "I need your cross, please," she chirped.     I blinked. "My…what?"     "Your cross," she repeated. "You aren't allowed any further with your cross still in place. I would have grabbed you out in the café, but I really, really had to go to the bathroom. So, can I have your cross now, please?"     "Um, I guess." What could it hurt? It wasn't as if I'd really be facing vampires, as I'd teased Wufei about earlier, right? Right? With a sigh I undid the clasp, removed the chain, and re-hooked the clasp before handing it to her. "Here ya go."     "Thank you!" she said as she beamed up at me. She handed me a little stub, bowed very respectfully, and then dashed from the room.     Saying that that had been weird would have been an understatement. I glanced down at the little stub in my hand and fought off a snicker. 'Receipt for one holy cross' read the little white slip. Someone here definitely had a sense of humour.     Looking up from the slip of paper brought me back to the present, and I grimaced in remembrance. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know what was going on out in that front room. It looked a lot like necking, but in a 'mouth and throat muscles working like a Hoover' sort of way. As a matter of fact, I was becoming surer by the second that I didn't really want to know. "All right, let's get this mass menagerie on the road, then," I said with a grin. When feeling unsure, false-bravado your way through it, I always say.     Our guide pushed aside one of the elaborate tapestries that hung on the walls, revealing a heavy wooden door. He knocked twice softly, and a metal plate slid back to reveal a pair of bright, laughing blue eyes. "It's me," Damian said softly.     "Me, who?" the owner of the amused orbs asked, his humour evident in his voice.     A flicker of disgruntlement crossed Damian's beautiful, alabaster face. "Jason, if you don't open this door right now, I will force it open and then forcibly deal with you as well."     "Oh, Damian, do you promise?" the man on the other side of the door asked breathily. When Damian made a threatening move towards the door with a growl, the door slid back to reveal a short, slender man with thick, shoulder length blonde hair. He was laughing openly at Damian, one hand resting comfortably on a leather clad hip. "Come on in, honey," he said to Damian with a wink.     "I don't know why I put up with you, Jason," Damian growled with a shake of his head, sweeping past the shorter man without a backwards glance.     Jason looked over at us with a broad grin. I noticed that his silk t-shirt was a perfect match in colour for his eyes. "I apologise for Damian's sour behaviour," he said, motioning us through the doorway. "He's a bit testy until he gets his dinner."     "I heard that!" echoed down the corridor from in front of us.     Cupping his hands around his mouth, Jason called back, "I was counting on it!" He pushed the door shut and turned back to our little group with an almost curious expression. "So you're the ones that the masters have been wanting to see. Well, come on. Since Damian's being a spoil sport, I'll take you to them."     Still keeping myself towards the rear of the group, we fell in step behind Jason. It seemed that I was doomed to yet another set of never-ending corridors; at least this group was lit by conventional lighting.     After what seemed like a half hour of walking down stairs and never-ending corridors, we came to a large antechamber. I hadn't a clue as to where the hell I was; as far as I was concerned, cardinal directions didn't exist and I could be somewhere in one of the Americas. Well, I might be exaggerating a _little_ bit—we probably hadn't gone far enough underground to have ended up on the other side of the planet—but it seemed like we'd been walking for long enough to be on the other side of the planet.     "Here we are!" Jason declared with a cheery grin and a low, elaborate bow. We were standing before a set of extremely ornate double doors, complete with polished finish and wrought iron decorations.     To say I was having misgivings about this was an understatement. I was still in favour of running screaming into the night and forgetting about every strange thing I'd heard and seen. However, I had a feeling that the Powers That Be had other ideas.     …Yes, Fate, this means I still think you're a conniving bitch.     "Come on, Duo," Quatre said, latching onto my arm and drawing me forward. "It's not polite to keep our hosts waiting."     I rolled my eyes, allowing myself with much foot dragging to be drawn forward. Far be it for me to keep a bunch of weirdoes waiting. Why is it that no matter how strange he gets, Quatre always manages to pop up with his impeccable manners? "All right, let's go," I mumbled.     The doors opened before we quite got to them, and I was beginning to have B-rated monster flick suspicions all over again. As we stepped into the room, I could readily make out Jean-Claude behind the ornate desk to the back. Something about him just kind of…well, stood out, if you know what I mean. And I'm not just talking about the fact that he was pale as white marble, had inky black hair, and burning blue eyes, either. Anita was off to the side of him, speaking to a tall, dark-complexioned man. There was also a good-looking blonde man lounging like a big cat across one of the couches that stood off to the side of the room. Oh, yeah—the gorgeous redhead was already present as well.     Damian bowed to Jean-Claude. "I have brought the people you wished to see, Master."     Jean-Claude sighed, waving a graceful hand. "How many times have I told you not to call me Master, Damian?" he asked softly.     The redhead blinked a couple of times. "I believe I quit counting after the first couple of times, Jean-Claude."     "And that was how many hundreds of years ago, Damian?" the tall man who'd been speaking with Anita asked, flashing a lot of white teeth in a wolfish grin.     "Shut up, you," Damian muttered, eyes narrowing as he stalked across the room to take a seat beside the blonde.     Jason began to snicker at the sight of the pouting Damian. He threw me a wink just before he raced across the room in a blur—I'm not kidding you; I didn't even see the guy move—and jumped into Damian's lap, earning a startled yelp. "Hello, daaahling," the blonde drawled, beaming up at the taller man. "Did you miss me?"     I had to laugh as Damian developed a perfect 'Why me?' expression. Of course, the redhead didn't seem to be in any big hurry to remove Jason, I noticed.     Jean-Claude cleared his throat rather noisily, drawing attention back to himself. For some reason, I had a feeling that people usually had a hard time _not_ paying attention to the man. And I was certain that it was more than the fact that he was downright sexy as hell. And if asked about that thought, I'd lie and tell you'd I never thought it. "Thank you for coming," he murmured politely. "I have asked you here, because I believe it is time that certain truths become known."     "And because it took me seventeen fucking years to find a certain someone," Anita growled from beside him, her arms crossed over her chest.     I don't know why, but for some reason I felt as though I should have been apologising for the inconvenience. Me…apologise? Yeah, right. It wasn't as though I'd asked her to find me or anything.     A slender black brow rose at Anita's interruption, but Jean-Claude seemed more amused than anything. "Yes, that is true, _ma petite_. I ask that you make yourself and your companions comfortable, Heero. We have much to catch up on."     I glanced at Heero curiously. How was it that he and Jean-Claude seemed to know so much about each other? Seeing the small smirk on Heero's face, which was mirrored by Jean-Claude, I wasn't so sure that I wanted to know.     "You heard the man," Heero said, turning back to me in particular. I felt like shaking my head and saying some sort of smart-ass remark, but none were readily forthcoming, and Heero grabbed my wrist and dragged me towards the couch at the opposite end of the room anyway. Apparently I wasn't to have much choice in the matter.     Kind of like the way most of my life had gone.     I found myself sandwiched between Heero and Wufei—I guess they weren't taking any chances that I might get up and make a run for it. Though how the hell I was supposed to find my way out of the underground labyrinth without ending up horribly lost was beyond me. Quatre sat on Trowa's lap, occupying the other end of the couch.     Anita hopped up onto the edge of Jean-Claude's ornate desk like a teenager without a care, crossing her ankles and gripping the edge between her hands. "I'll go ahead and make introductions. The tall guy with the Mediterranean-dark tan and too-white teeth is Richard, Jean-Claude's and my third. The blonde that looks too good to be real is Asher, an old friend. And you've already met Damian and Jason."     Jason laughed and blew me a kiss before going back to annoying Damian.     Anita sighed and rolled her eyes. I had a feeling that she was quite used to Jason's behaviour. "Now here's where you need to listen up—especially you, Duo."     My eyes went wide. "Me?" I repeated in shock, pointing to my nose. "Why me?" My opinion of Anita had yet to change—I was kind of warming up to her, but I still didn't really trust her—and the idea of being singled out by an unknown quantity was disturbing.     "Because you are the only one who knew absolutely nothing about the Shadowkind," Richard said, stepping forward so that he stood just behind Jean-Claude. I wondered if he was supposed to be intimidating. In a way, he kind of was considering the fact that he had to be over one hundred and eighty centimetres tall and had that football player kind of broadness to his shoulders. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to find out if the muscles were real or not, since I was betting they were.     "Well, that and the fact that I've heard you have a horrible attention span," Anita added, giving me a knowing and amused look.     I could have died right there. Great; a virtual stranger knew about my attention span. As it was, all I was able to do was hang my head and nod.     "Good," Anita said with a small smile. "Here's the deal, then. The world has had an awful time trying to figure out how the hell the five of you manage to stay alive. The Shadowkind, however, have started to catch on. They know about you, now, and it's only a small matter of time before some of the nastier factions begin to contact you in order to recruit you for their purpose."     There was a short pause in which she turned her gaze to Quatre. "I know that we don't really have to worry about you going to anyone else, Quatre, but your wolf…"     "Don't worry about that," Quatre told her reassuringly, his aqua eyes sparkling. He gently touched Trowa's face, fingers tracing the curve of cheek and jaw. "Trowa has always been my wolf to command and will be until I die. Not even the Master of Beasts could break my control."     It was almost as if a stunned silence had descended upon the room. I glanced around, curious as to what had caused the lack of speech. Just what was a Master of Beasts?     "Well, I must admit that is quite reassuring," Jean-Claude said after a moment. Anita nodded in agreement before continuing.     "Now, Wufei, as the last of your line to hold Shenlong, you do realise that many will come searching for you either to claim you or kill you?"     Wufei smirked, his eyes lazy as he nodded. "Of course, onna. There have always been those who have sought Shenlong, but any who find him will be in for a big surprise."     Anita and Wufei settled into a staring contest, obsidian eyes locked with dark chocolate brown. After several minutes, Anita's eyes went wide in shock and she gasped aloud. "You didn't," she whispered in dismay. "You _couldn't_."     "I can, and I have," Wufei said with a small laugh. "You should know, Executioner, that when it comes to survival, anything is possible. And when it comes to having to protect those most precious to you, small sacrifices are completely acceptable."     "I see," Anita whispered, glancing at Jean-Claude and Richard in question. Richard shrugged, glancing at Jean-Claude as well.     Jean-Claude sat like a statue carved from marble. There was no visible sign of breath, no betraying blink. Then, as if waking from a dream, he slowly smiled and shook his head. "Strange, is it not, _mes amies_? The first dhampire[1] in thousands of years, the first true shapeshifter, and these other three remarkable young ones have found each other in this time and place."     Okay, I was beginning to get worried. Since they'd already spoken to Quatre, Trowa—well, _about_ Trowa—and Wufei, I had the sinking suspicion that Heero and I were the first two Jean-Claude had mentioned—and that really, really bothered me. For one thing, I hadn't a fucking clue what a dhampire was. For another, what was this 'first true shapeshifter' business? Was there some other kind of shapeshifter?     And then there was Jean-Claude's tone of voice. There had been something about his speech pattern that seemed familiar—I knew I'd heard him use the same tone earlier at some point. And when I glanced at Richard and Anita, I saw that the former was looking grimly at the back of Jean-Claude's while the latter was smiling as if nothing was peculiar in the least.     Curious…curious, and disturbing.     "It's not as though I'm a true-born dhampire," Heero said quietly beside me. "It was merely the end result of the gene-construct program used on me."     "But was it a mere whimsy that Jean-Claude's genes were used?" Richard asked archly, looking a little less sombre. "I think not. Jean-Claude is not only a Master vampire, he is a member of the most powerful Triumvirate remaining, as well as one of the last incubi left alive."     Now I really did want to just curl up and die. Heero was a dhampire—whatever the hell _that_ was—and was, for all purposes, Jean-Claude's son. And Jean-Claude was, apparently, a vampire. I could literally feel myself going into shock.     "Hey, don't blank out on me yet," Anita said sharply, glaring at me for all she was worth.     I frowned, my eyes narrowing in anger. "And why the hell shouldn't I?" I retorted. "It's not like I owe you anything."     Her expression softened—I suspected that didn't happen often—and she smiled sadly. "You're right, Duo. _You_ owe me nothing, but I owe you quite a bit. The biggest thing I owe you is your past and your heritage, and no matter how much you fight it, I'm determined to give them to you. Just ask them"—she hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Richard and Jean-Claude—"if you don't think I'm bull-headed enough to outlast even your stubbornness."     My past and my heritage… "What if I don't want to know?" I found myself whispering raggedly. "You know, they say ignorance is bliss."     Anita shook her head. "Not in your case, Duo. As I said before, in the world of the Shadowkind, power calls. Some will be smart enough to fear it, but others will crave it like an addiction—they'll crave you like an addiction. When you see the video I have of you as a child, you'll understand."     "Nothing too unusual there," I said dryly, answering her earlier comment. "People have always wanted me for one reason or another."     "Not like this," she said soberly. "Believe me; once you experience it first hand, you'll be glad that you know everything about yourself and what can you do."     "And just what can I do?" I asked curiously. Yeah, I know; curiosity killed the cat, and all that, but hell, I really wanted to know. After the weird night I'd had, it seemed only right.     Right?     "You, my friend," Richard began, leaning over Jean-Claude, "can become an animal that is all but extinct among the lycanthropes."     "You," said Jean-Claude, picking up where Richard left off, "can become a black leopard—without the necessity of the full moon."     I couldn't tell you what happened next because, much to my embarrassment, I abruptly blacked out. 

* * *

When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn't. Because when I woke up, I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings, took in the conversations going on around me, and I remembered every fucking thing that had caused me to faint in the first place. 

    I considered pretending to still be passed out, but I had a feeling that I wouldn't be allowed to play dead for much longer anyway.     Everyone seemed to be engaged in an argument with someone else. From the snatches of conversation I caught, most of the arguments seemed to centre around me for some reason. Actually, there seemed to be one main argument going on; Quatre, Trowa, Heero, and Wufei were arguing rather fiercely with Jean-Claude, Anita, and Richard about whether or not to 'call my beast'—whatever the hell _that_ was supposed to mean.     You know, some days are better than others, some days worse; today had definitely gone past the bottom of the worst marker, at least for me. I wasn't sure what I had done to deserve the weird shit that was going on. Had I just been picked as the lucky guy, or was there something I'd done way back when to end up where I was? If there was something I'd done, I wanted a time machine to go back and fix it.     Bad, evil cosmic karma! Shoo, go away!     I was beginning to get pissed—scratch that; I was _beyond_ pissed. What right did they have to sit there like I wasn't even present and discuss my fate? Last I checked, I was still free enough to fuck up my life myself, thank you very much. I didn't think that I needed anyone's help to do that.     "If this argument doesn't require my personal participation, I'd like to go upstairs to get something to drink," I said tightly when my four ex-friends—well, I guess they were still my friends, though it was becoming somewhat debatable—continued to quietly plot my fate with Anita, Jean-Claude, and Richard.     I didn't intend to stick around for an answer, but I stopped short of the door when I felt the burning weight of more than one glare between my shoulder blades—well, that and the fact that I'd stood up waaay too fast and was dizzy enough that I had to catch the door frame so I didn't fall flat on my face and embarrass myself even more. I turned around slowly, wondering what I was in for now.     Apparently, I was to be on the receiving end of four—all right, three and a half since Tro has that bang problem—Gundam Pilot Glares o' Death, which caused me to take a nervous step backwards. What can I say—I'm mostly sane and I value my life? Well, sometimes, anyway.     "Oi, minna, what's with the look?" I asked with a small laugh. When in doubt, involving a situation with suicidal/homicidal guerrilla terrorists who aren't human, act _normal_.     Whatever _that_ was.     I blinked dumbly in shock when the reply came in a chorus of not three, but four voices. "Duo, don't get drunk!" Blinking again, I sighed and shook my head in amazement. At the risk of sounding cliché: do my friends know me or what?     "All right, all right, haha-ue-tachi," I muttered, turning to leave once again. Jason appeared at my side and offered to show me back to the café.     "This way you'll make it up there punctureless," he said with a grin as he led me back through the labyrinth of rooms and halls.     I kept glancing at him curiously out of the corner of my eye as he began to lead me back through the labyrinth. I knew that Jean-Claude was a vampire, and I was guessing that Damian and Asher were as well—chalk white skin, and all that. But I was a little at a loss as to just what Anita and Richard—and Jason—were. And I'd be a big liar if I said I wasn't the least bit curious.     "Ask, already," Jason said with a hint of exasperation, casting a bright blue gaze my way briefly.     "Okay. What the hell are you?"     Jason laughed at my wording, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Boy, you sure have a way with words. You remind me quite a bit of Anita, you know. Neither one of you stand on ceremony very much. As for what I am, I'm a lycanthrope, a werewolf like Richard. My family's been with Richard, Jean-Claude, and Anita for a very long time."     "So, what? Lycanthropism runs in the family or something?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. This was beginning to become an interesting topic of conversation.     "Not really," Jason said with a frown. "It's a very rare case in which a child is born with his or her parent's lycanthropic disease. The last three generations of my family have made the choice to take on the lycanthropy. My grandmother was a weretiger from the Bronx, and my grandfather was a psychic who picked up business with Jean-Claude—that's just on the one side. My other grandmother was a shape-shifting witch, and my other grandfather was an animator—and I'm not talking about a cartoonist. Don't worry, I'll explain in a minute; let me finish my family history story first. My father, son of the first set of grandparents, continued my grandfather's work as Jean-Claude's psychic, and my mother, daughter of the second set of grandparents, took on my other grandmother's disease and became a weretiger as well."     I boggled for a moment in confusion as I tried to process Jason's dissertation. "Then how the hell did you end up as a werewolf?" I asked in confusion.     "My great-grandfather was a werewolf," Jason said softly, a faraway look in his eyes. "It's kind of funny; his name was Jason, too."     Funny? _Freaky_, was more like it. "It doesn't seem strange to you that you both had the name Jason and you both ended up as werewolves?" I queried.     Jason shook his head. "Not really. You see, my great-grandfather didn't have a choice really. His lycanthropy was basically forced upon him by the local pack's lupa; she didn't tell him that she was a werewolf when she offered to let him screw her. But my lycanthropy is by choice. I don't see it as a curse as some do; I like who I am, what I am, and what I can do. And I don't serve my Triumvirate out of fear or forced loyalty, I serve them because I respect them and because they're the only hope that the Shadowkind have of eventually repealing Brewster's Law."     Hn. It sounded as thought Jason really did have his head screwed on right; he presented a rather intelligent argument, and I could kind of see where he was coming from. I'm not saying that I would voluntarily accept a disease that would turn me furry at the full moon, but I could understand why _he_ had chosen to.     "Besides," Jason said with a grin, attempting to lighten the mood, "being _pomme de sang_ can have a lot of exciting benefits. Especially since it's so fun to rile Damian."     "I noticed that you rather enjoy doing that," I drawled while translating in my head. _Pomme de sang_ meant apple of blood; I was assuming that it was more a name for those that chose to feed the vampires rather than a literal meaning.     "Anyway, you were going to explain the word animator to me," I reminded him.     "That's right," Jason said, pausing in his tracks. He turned to me with a funny expression that I couldn't read. "You see, animator is also a term used for someone that can bring a semblance of life to the dead, someone that can raise zombies. That was my grandfather's talent—and it's Anita's talent, as well, though hers is much stronger. Anita is what we call a necromancer, because she has power over all types of the dead. She can raise vampires during the daylight, when their souls have left their bodies. She's… I don't know how to describe it. She's powerful and utterly amazing to watch in action, and I'm not afraid to admit that her ability scares the shit out of me."     I blinked a few times at his last statement. So Anita was not someone to be messed with. Well, I'd already basically decided that, but it didn't hurt to have a second opinion backing me up.     "So are all the lycanthropes here _pomme de sang_?" I asked Jason once we were on our way again. I wasn't really changing the subject, but I was trying to come up with something a little less scary to talk about. And I was actually quite curious about the internal goings-on of living with a vampire Master, and Jason was probably the best candidate to ask. Outside of the Master himself, that is, and there was no way in hell I was going to be doing that anytime soon. Let's just say that Heero's 'daddy' scared me just as badly as Anita.     "Nah," Jason said with a laugh, pale blue eyes flashing with similar humour. "Some of the lycanthropes think that it's degrading to allow ourselves to be used as a food source by the vamps. Of course, most of them avoid anyone non-lycanthrope like the plague."     "Guess there's racism in all types," I said with a small laugh.     "Oh, you've got absolutely _no_ idea!" Jason said with a groan and a shake of his head. "Have Anita tell you the full story of what happened when Brewster's Law was implemented. It was the racism between Shadowkind that brought it about."     At least the Shadowkind had a small excuse when they fought, I thought bitterly. They were of several different species, after all. What kind of excuse did humanity have for their wars?     "Hey, kid, don't take things too hard, all right?" Jason said suddenly, grabbing my shoulder and giving me a little shake. "I know you think what Anita, Jean-Claude, and Richard were saying was a bunch of bullshit, but we all believe that it's really important for you to know. Richard wasn't kidding when he said that the lycanthrope pard is all but extinct. As far as we know, there are only six wereleopards left, and they all live with us. They'll want you meet you once they know that you've been found."     "Why's that?" I asked as we continued our winding journey.     Jason grinned and gave me a wink. "Oh, come on! You're the son of their most famous wereleopard. Nathaniel formed the bridge between the lukoi and the pard by breaking Anita of her shyness and getting her to use her power for the good of both lycanthrope groups. Not only that, but Nathaniel was something of a favourite among many of the vampires; they remember him with fondness, and have passed that fondness on to younger generations.     "Well, here we are."     I glanced up in surprise. Sure enough, we were back at the door that led from the underground labyrinth to the café. "Sankyuu," I said softly, reaching for the handle.     "Not a problem," Jason said with another quick grin. "Just remember what your friends said. I wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of you."     Now why would anyone want to go and do that? I thought with a wry smile as I stepped back out into the café. The cross check-in girl smiled at me before turning back to chatting animatedly with what I was assuming was customer. I walked to the other end of the bar, smiling at the young woman behind the counter.     "What can I get for you?" she asked softly, a hint of a European accent in her voice.     "Oh, something fruity," I said, letting my eyes slip halfway closed. "And if you manage to slip something alcoholic into it, I wouldn't exactly mind, if you know what I mean."     She nodded and smiled at me, a sweet, innocent smile that made me almost feel sorry for playing with her. "Okay!" she murmured, tossing me a very naughty wink.     Like I said, it made me almost feel sorry. She was a cute kid, I thought, with big dimples and wide, sparkling grey eyes. Not my type at all, but cute nonetheless. I bet that she had a hard time keeping the men and ladies away.     "Here you go, sir," she said, handing me a faintly orange-coloured drink.     "Why, thank you, my fair lady," I said with a wicked grin, sweeping her a bow that had her blushing. What can I say; I'm a born actor.     I took my drink and headed for an empty table in the far corner. I made sure that I had a clear view of all exits and entrances as well as the windows before I sat down.     It had been a strange night—hell, it had been a strange month and a half. And it seemed that it was all finally beginning to catch up with me. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I was kind of leaning towards the 'bad thing' end.     I didn't really want to see the video that Anita said she had of me, and yet…and yet, I did. I wanted to know about my past. I wanted to know what I had been like as a child, as I had no memory of those years.     "You look like you've had a bad night," a soft voice said from beside me.     I looked up from contemplating my drink and being lost in my thoughts, gaze caught and held by a pair of wide hazel eyes. The woman gave me a small smile, blinking once as she moved to take the seat across from me. Her hair was a rich chocolate brown, but there were streaks of navy that fell on either side of her face.     "Don't suppose you want to talk about it?"     I shrugged noncommittally. She was an attractive woman, with a well-defined, heart-shaped face, a faintly olive skin tone, and a mouth that seemed used to smiling. But considering the fact that I'd been surrounded by pretties of both sexes all night—none of whom had been exactly human—I wasn't about to be actively social or overly polite.     She laughed softly as I continued to sit there silently, the smile on her face growing. "Don't like to talk much, ne?" she asked.     I snorted at that and shook my head. Anyone that knew me knew that one of my favourite hobbies was talking. Quatre didn't nickname me "Brooke" for nothing, after all. "No," I told her, taking another sip from my drink. "Talking's fine when you have something to say. Right now, I'm a little too numb to think, let alone talk."     "Ah!" the woman declared brightly, leaning forward on the arms she'd crossed and lain on the table. "You must have just found out about the Shadowkind," she said, a knowing looking her eyes.     I snorted again, taking a gulp of the cool, biting liquid before me. "Yeah. I found out that I've been living with four of them for the past two years."     The woman laughed at that, which had me scowling and glaring at her suspiciously. "I'm sorry," she apologized once her laughter was under control. "But the look on your face was just absolutely priceless. I'm Prycia, by the way," she said, extending her hand to me. "I'm the owner of the café."     "Duo," I said, accepting her hand. She had a firm grip for a woman, with calluses on her palm that suggested something a little more than just hard work. That reassured me; here was someone that actually did something that produced a physical change to their body. For some reason—maybe it was the calluses; I don't know for sure—I felt that I could trust Prycia—well, that I could trust her more than most of the people I'd met so far tonight.     "So, Duo, do you want to talk about it?" Prycia asked, using her hand as a brace to hold her chin once we broke the handshake.     I opened my mouth to reply with a polite yet firm, "No, thank you," but stopped before the words could leave my mouth. Instead I shrugged and said, "Sure. Why not?"     Prycia smiled at that, her whole face seeming to light up. "Yooosh'! It's always best to get these kind of things off your shoulders." She winked at me. "If you know what I mean."     With a rueful shake of my head, I said, "Sister, you've got _no_ idea." I had so much stuff to get off my shoulders that we could be there all fucking night.     "So try me," she retorted, hazel eyes flashing. "What could it hurt?"     What could it hurt indeed. It wasn't like I had any sanity left to lose or anything. In answer to her question: as far as I knew, nothing, so I might as well go for it. " A little over two years ago, I'd never even seen the Earth, except from out in space. Then, on April 7, A.C. 195, I was given the orders to come to Earth and fight against OZ." I looked up in time to catch Prycia nodding her dark head, lips pursed in thought.     "So you're one of those Gundam pilots that the human news keeps talking about."     "Yeah," I said with a grin. "That would be me." Publicity going to my head? Never. "Anyway, the first person I met here was named Heero Yuy, a fellow Gundam pilot. Scary guy, definitely psychotic; we tried to kill each other the first time we met. Well, he got captured because of me, so I felt bad enough to go in and bust him out of the hospital.     "Our relationship was really rocky at first; neither of us trusted the other much farther than we could throw them. But then Heero was tricked by OZ into doing something terrible. That was how we first met the other three pilots, as well. Heero had a hard time getting over what he had done, but I tried to help him as much as I could. I think that's what allowed us to become close enough to call one another "friend."     "But then Lady Une of OZ tricked us all once again, only this time Heero was ordered to self-destruct so that OZ couldn't get its hands on the Gundams."     I stopped to take a drink, savouring the cool liquid sliding down my throat before I continued. "I thought he was dead. Hell, everyone except for Tro—who rescued that bastard's body—thought he was dead.     "That's how I met Quatre. He had some idea of how lost and alone I was feeling and offered to let me hide out with him for a while. Meeting Quatre was kind of a strange experience for me," I said with a fond smile. "All of my life I'd admired and envied anyone who had money simply because I didn't. Quatre had grown up wishing the opposite. He wished he didn't have money, wished he didn't have social status or obligation. He's kind of a strange one, if ya know what I mean."     Prycia blinked and then frowned at me. "Er, no, I don't."     Sighing in disgust—oi, she _seemed_ like the kind of person who'd been around the block a few times, so I didn't understand why she didn't get it—I began to spell things out. "It's like this," I said, leaning forward on my crossed arms. "Quatre's got this…ability…he refers to as the uchuu no kokoro. What it is, in actuality, is a manifestation of parapsychic phenomena."     Whaaat? You think Heero's the only one that reads about weird shit?     "What type of phenomena?" Prycia asked with interest, leaning forward herself. "Telempathy, telekinesis, telepathy, divination, telemetry, pyrokinesis—what?"     I sighed again, this time shaking my head as I slumped back in my chair. "As far as I've seen, telepathy and telempathy. But with Quatre I'm not quite ready to draw a line in the sands concerning his abilities. I mean, the kid's got some twenty-nine sisters who all seem perfectly normal, and that male Winner brat is running around with wide, innocent aqua eyes while he poisons people or knocks them unconscious with strange herbal concoctions or freaky chants that would scare the laugh out of a hyena."     Prycia perked up like a hound that had just caught a hint of its favourite scent. "Did you say Winner?" she asked excitedly. "As in…as in Quatre Raberba Winner—"     Knowing what was coming next, I mentally added, _Heir to the Winner family business and fortune._     "—heir to Princess Quatrine Raberba, the Aspect Queen of the Darkling Throng?"     I blinked in utter dumbfoundment, choking on the liquid I'd been going to swallow. "The who-what?!" I gasped, once I'd managed to get the drink past the lump in my throat. Here I'd thought I was psychic, and the chick across from me had to go and prove me wrong.     "The Aspect Queen!" Prycia repeated with a laugh, clapping her hands in merriment that I was _not_ sharing in. "The only witch to master the inner magicks of all three magical aspects: black, white, and shamanic. Well, I guess Quatrine wasn't really a _witch_ per se; more like a magi or sorceress. She was a distant relation of the Unseelie Court, her power rivalling that of some of the most ancient Sidhe who were once considered gods by the ancient world.     "But that isn't the best part," she said with glowing eyes and a huge smile. "The best part is, she married the last living relative of Death."     This time I gaped unashamedly in confusion. Hell, at that point, I was covered head to toe and rolling in it! "What did you say?" I asked hoarsely. I had to have heard her wrong; I _had_ to.     Didn't I?     A peal of full-throated laughter was the reply to my question. "Not like you're thinking, Duo!" she said, trying to contain her amusement for the sake of my peace of mind. "About a half century or so ago, a pair of distant cousins—the male from the Middle East Coalition, the female from what was left of the United States of America—met, fell in love, and married. They were the last descendants of a man known as Ted Forrester—Anita simply knew him as Edward. However, most people and Shadowkind on the wrong side of the law knew him as Death.     "Anyway, the male descendant's last name was Winner, first name Mostafa, and he was head of a business giant known simply as Winner Enterprises. His wife, Nora, was a rather sickly thing and was only able to give him one son; Quatre's father, Ahran.     "And so it happened that, in the time it takes for younglings to grow up, Ahran Winner met and fell in love with a slight, fair gypsy-like Sidhe-descended girl from the north by the name of Quatrine Raberba. I have my suspicions about her though—rumour is, she looked more like Death than any of his known descendants, though for all I know she could be related to the Sidhe Death God Rhys. Anyway, Quatrine lived a full life with her husband—twenty-nine test tube daughters and all that—until the day she realized that she would die.     "You see, Quatrine knew that another was after her powers, and that if they killed her in a certain ritual, her talent would become theirs. She couldn't let that happen; not when her children would have to live with the repercussions. But she was quite clever; upon conception, she passed her powers on to Quatre—something almost never heard of in the history of either court, which perpetuated her reputation as a witch. It's what caused her death, of course. The loss of power caused all her hundreds of years of age to catch up to her."     "Just how old was Quatre's mother when she died?" I asked in a bare whisper. Hundreds of years…? Geeze!     Prycia frowned thoughtfully. "Let's see…was it three-hundred and forty or four-hundred and thirty? Dear me, I can't seem to remember! You know, for a Sidhe that's fairly young."     Feeling like I'd just been smacked upside the head with a gundanium two by ten, I sat back in my seat with my mind gibbering. Dear Shinigami, what _had_ I gotten myself into? Quatre was some sort of psychic sorcerer-witch-faerie person; Trowa was a lycanthrope, of the 'howl-at-the-full-moon' variety; Wufei had a pet demon, as well as some other secret that I had yet to discover; Heero was somehow Jean-Claude's son—which, I'll admit, scared the hell out of me; and me—supposedly I could turn into a panther.     Have I mentioned lately that my night had been just a little stranger than usual? Not a whole fucking lot, mind you, just a _little_ bit stranger.     I glanced up with a start as Prycia gently touched the back of my hand. "Hey, kid, it'll be okay," she told me with a smile that I couldn't think of as any way other than sincere. "You and all your friends…you'll be okay."     First Jason, now Prycia. Was my apprehension and worry that easy to read? I wondered as I glanced at her. The faraway tone that her voice had taken on had been just a tad bit freaky, and I looked up to find myself staring into her wide hazel eyes. There was no pupil left that I could see; just a wide, swirling pool of hazel that threatened to suck me down into their depths. It was quite a struggle, but I managed to tear my gaze away, glancing down to where Prycia's hand clutched mine.     Waving strands of navy and dark brown hair captured my attention as Prycia suddenly shook her head, bringing her hands up to clutch at her temples. "Wow, talk about a massive headache," she groaned, her eyes closing in a wince. "Ouch!"     For a moment I was confused once again. Then a thought occurred to me—yeah, I know, what a _rare_ happening. I had absolutely _no_ idea if Prycia was even human. I really doubted it, after the conversation we'd just had. If that was the case, what was she? And could what she had just said to me have been a premonition of some kind?     "Say, Prycia?" I asked softly, lowering my voice so as not to aggravate her headache. Oi; I can be kind if I really, really want to. Of course, I'm usually only kind when I want something. Call it a character flaw of mine.     "Yeah?" she queried, opening her eyes carefully after she tipped her head to the side.     "Are you a clairvoyant?"     My question seemed to catch her slightly off guard as her eyes widened in surprise before closing again with a wince. "No, not really," she said slowly. "I'm half Daoine Sidhe; my father, who was a pure blood, had a touch of what we call Foresight. Why?"     I shook my head, not willing to share with her the news she had imparted. "Ah, it's nothing," I murmured softly. Then I smiled and said, "Thank you for your time, Prycia. I've really appreciated talking with you."     "I, too, Duo," she said with a weak smile. "I would greatly love to speak with you more, but if I don't do something about this headache I'm going to be miserable for the rest of the night and probably tomorrow as well."     "Naa, it's not like I'm a hard person to find," I said with a grin. "You go take care of yourself; I'll sit here and mull things over until someone comes to get me."     With my reassurances that I would be quite all right on my own, Prycia made her way towards the counter and bar, disappearing behind a curtain to the back. She'd been a strange girl, no doubt about that, but the way she had rattled on about Quatre's mom and stuff had—for some, obscure reason that is no doubt lost in the bottomless abyss that time forgot—calmed me considerably.     Glancing woefully at the cup in my hands, I decided that it was time to get off my lazy butt and get a refill. All that talking—all right, so Prycia had done most of the talking—had made my throat exceptionally dry.     "Excuse me," a throaty voice murmured, taking me surprise. I looked up and found myself caught in two lipid pools of endless triple-toned pale green. The woman was tall—I was guessing about a hundred and seventy centimetres plus—with hair of such a pale colour and length that it could rival Zechs'. Her skin was pale and yet it shone with a strange shimmering sheen that had me almost instantly on alert. And it was more than the fact that she made me realise just how short I still was.     The woman smiled at my wary expression. Great; I was amusing her. "Forgive me for startling you," she continued softly, "but I couldn't help noticing that you were here alone. Would you mind sharing a drink with me?"     It was after she said this that I noticed she was carrying two glasses in her hands—and I had a feeling it wasn't coloured water in those glasses. Call me crazy—scratch that; call me _sane_—but for some reason I did not trust the woman one iota. Especially when she was offering me alcohol.     Maybe it was the fact that the shimmering lilac robe-thingy she was wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Maybe it was the fact that she was undressing me with her eyes without an ounce of embarrassment. Maybe it was the fact that I could see the tiny wheels and gears turning in her pretty blonde head as she tried to deduce the best way to get me into her bed.     And then again, maybe it was the fact that I still had _some_ sense of self-preservation. Really, I'm sure I've got it running around… Well, it's running around _somewhere_, I'm sure; you'll just have to trust me on that one.     The woman set the drinks down on the table with a small laugh, her fingers lightly brushing my bare arm as she did so. The contact sent a sharp jolt down my spine, and I could feel my eyes go wide even as my skin began to tingle. "My name is Ellinea," she said, taking the seat across from me. She sipped from her drink, resting her chin in her hands afterward. "I must admit that I find you quite fascinating, Duo Maxwell. Quite fascinating indeed." Her slender, long-fingered hand reached out again, running up and down my arm once before returning to her side of the table.     Oh dear fucking god of hell—she knew my _name_! That right there set warning bells off in my head—not to mention the weird touching my arm shit she was doing. Most of the people I'd met tonight—excluding Jean-Claude, Anita, and Richard—hadn't a fucking clue who I was from Adam. And now this chick was telling me I was _fascinating_?     Maybe I should forget about asking for forgiveness ahead of time and just plain run away screaming into the night.     "Yes," Ellinea went on in a purr, her eyes half lidded, "I have heard many an intriguing tale of you and your friends. I believe"—she paused and took another sip from her drink, her eyes never leaving my face—"that you would make a valuable business associate. My colleagues and I—"     A flash of blue and white caught my attention, thankfully breaking the strange spell that had fallen over me as I bathed in the glow of Ellinea's green eyes. Bathed in the glow… Ewww! Where the fuck had _that_ imagery come from?     A tall man with long, black hair swept up in a high ponytail—and dressed in a white hakama and blue kimono top, I might add—knelt beside Ellinea and spoke in soft, earnest tones. I watched as Ellinea's face went from predatorily smug to tight-lipped, white-knuckled anger.     I briefly wondered who had pissed her off—I was guessing that whoever they were, they weren't going to live very long. The look she had kind of reminded me of Lady Une, á la persona one; the one that the guys and I lovingly refer to as Psycho Bitch.     "Thank you, Miburou," she said softly, laying her hand to the side of the man's face. "Shall we return home?"     The man rose, the harsh lines of his angular face set in an impassive expression. The man could have rivalled Heero when it came to whose face could show less emotion. "Hai, Ellinea-dono," the man murmured, golden eyes all but dead of emotion. "Let's go home."     Ellinea accepted the man's offered hand, rising gracefully to her feet. "We shall meet again, Duo Maxwell," she said quietly, fingers brushing against my arm once again. Her pale eyes flashed with something that sent shivers of foreboding down my back. "Jaa ne."     My eyes stayed fastened on her and her Bakufu-samurai friend until I was sure that they had gone out the doors of "Féeriques Coteau" for good. After about five minutes of staring at the doors, I was relatively certain they weren't coming back anytime soon. I downed my drink, then reached across the table for Ellinea's and downed it, too. Had I mentioned lately that I had really been hoping to be three sheets to the wind by this point in the night?     By some unbidden instinct, I could feel someone coming up behind me, someone that didn't feel right in my head. I snapped free the blade on my right arm, dropping it so the pommel was in my hand and the blade was flat against the arm bracer. I lunged from my chair to the left, pivoted off my left foot and brought my right arm up with the blade now out—     —and found myself a whole three centimetres away from slitting Damian's throat. I had to give the guy credit; my actions didn't seem to have surprised him a hell of a lot. His dark, cat-like eyes blinked once, and I swear I saw a small smile cross his stone-like face. "The others have asked for you to return, Duo."     I nodded shakily, returning the blade to its sheath. The night's events had me staggering on the edge like a drunk, and I was worried that it would only take something minor to push me all the way over. Get yourself under control, Maxwell! I snarled at myself, even as I smiled apologetically up at Damian. "Um…about the knife…"     Damian shook his head slightly. "Do not worry about it. Anita has threatened me with much worse." He smiled wryly, looking a lot more human than I'd seen him look all night. "_Jason_ has threatened me with worse."     Somehow I found it kind of hard to believe that Jason could threaten someone as big and bad as Damian, but if Damian said it was true… Oi, who was I to argue with an immortal bloodsucker?     "Let's go," I said with a resigned sigh, falling into step behind Damian as we began to retrace our steps, back into the underground lair deep in the bowls of the earth under the café. As I walked, I couldn't help but reflect on the conversation I'd had with Prycia—the conversation I'd kind of had with Ellinea, as well.     I'd be the first to admit that Ellinea chick had been strange, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was about her that had bothered me. Other than constantly petting my arm, that is. I was quiet—yeah, I know, an unusual occurrence—as Damian led me back through the maze of halls and rooms downstairs, lost deep in my own thoughts.     I gave everyone in the room the once-over when the door was closed behind me, unsure of what to expect. Anita and Quatre were deep in conversation off to my left, my blonde friend worrying the leash through his hands. Trowa sat calmly, quietly beside him. When he noticed me, he gently touched Quatre's arm to gain his attention. Wufei appeared to be asleep, seated on the couch across the room beside Heero and leaning heavily against him. Heero was speaking softly with Jean-Claude and Richard, but he looked up and over at me as if he'd been cued and gave me a crooked smile. Wufei, too, opened his eyes and gave me a small smile as well.     "Well, we think we've figured out what we're going to do, Duo," Anita said, pushing away from the wall and making her way towards me. "Richard's almost certain that with the help of Jean-Claude and myself, and the help of Heero and Wufei as well, we can call your beast."     I blinked and then gave a small laugh. "Even after all the strange shit I've seen and heard tonight, that still sounds sooo ridiculous," I said.     Trowa laughed at that, brushing his bangs aside so that I could see both smiling green eyes. "Duo, if it's any consolation, even when you've 'been there, done that' it _still_ sounds ridiculous."     I drew in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly. I gave him a small smile. "I guess it's some consolation, Tro."     Quatre stood up, Trowa rising with him. He stretched his arms over his head, revealing a tempting flash of taut stomach. "I'm sorry that we can't stay to offer support, Duo," Quatre apologized. He stepped forward and touched my arm lightly, and I gasped in shock as that contact sent a spark of _something_ racing up through my arm.     Quatre frowned slightly, but just shook his head in dismissal. "I hope it goes well." He then leaned in and kissed my cheek. Once again that strange spark of sensation jumped through me; where Quatre's lips had touched my cheek felt almost numb. Trowa's knuckles brushed my other cheek gently, and much to my surprise the same feeling occurred but this time I leaned my face into the touch. He gave me that small, adorable smile of his and said, "We'll see you in a bit." Then he and Quatre left the room and closed the door behind them.     Anita gave me a quick grin, pushing back the curls that had slipped over her shoulder. "Why don't you go sit by Wufei and Heero while the boys explain what's going to happen. I need to go and find Asher."     I nodded and slowly made my way over to the couch, feeling a bit reluctant. Reluctant at what I wasn't sure.     Wufei seemed to be rather comfortable leaning against Heero with his head pillowed on Heero's shoulder, and he _did_ look tired, so I didn't even try to make him move so I could sit between him and Heero. Yeah, I guess my sadism does have its limits. And, if I was perfectly honest with myself, they looked quite stunning together like that.     Instead, in what could probably be considered typical Duo Maxwell touchy-feely fashion—though my actions surprised the hell out of _me_—I went to the couch and sprawled out across both Heero's and Wufei's laps.     "What's up guys?[2]" I asked, pillowing my head on my crossed arms. It was a little uncomfortable to have the metal from the buckles on my bracers digging into my skin, but not unbearable. My actions and words earned me smiles and laughs all around, two of the laughs feeling like the caress of sun-warmed fur, but touching you from inside your skull.     A hand—Heero's hand—began to slide across my hair, fingers occasionally brushing across the back of my neck and causing me to shiver. Another hand—Wufei's, given my position—was slowly moving up and down my back, like a mother soothing a child. Except every time Wufei's fingers found the edge of my shirt and brushed skin, sparks that seemed both hot and cold at the same time raced up my spine. I wanted to squirm back, to get more of those elusive touches.     That thought pulled me up short. Why was I suddenly feeling so, well, to put it bluntly, horny? Not that the thought of my fellow pilots hasn't given me a twinge in the loins a couple hundred times or so. But why the hell was this hitting right now? Even _I_ knew this was _so_ not the time for overactive hormones. Not that my overactive hormones ever listened to a damn thing I tried to tell them, but—     I shuddered slightly, leaning into my friends' hands. For some strange reason it was like my libido was cranked up to maximum and on autopilot, and not only could I not turn it down even the barest notch, there was no way in hell to take it off autopilot. _Someone talk, please!_ I screamed mentally. If I didn't get a distraction, I wasn't sure what would happen.     I wasn't sure if Jean-Claude read my mind, but I knew I didn't care. He did give me a melt-in-your-mouth-and-in-your-hands smile, though, before he spoke that had me wondering. "Richard is going to call your beast through the aid of the triumvirate's power, _mon petit panthère_. Through Anita's knowledge of the pard and her link to the lukoi munin, Richard will use his abilities as an alpha lycanthrope to help her call your beast forth. I shall act as a buffer for _ma petite et mon chere_."     I nodded at that, freeing one hand from under my chin to trace patterns on the leather Heero's legs were encased in. "So what are Heero and Wu-babe—Ye-ouch!—going to be doing?" I finished the sentence with a grumble, turning my head briefly to glare at Wufei. The "Wu-babe" comment had earned me quite a smack on the rump.     Wufei's sloe eyes were bright with amusement even though his lips weren't smiling. Then Wufei went and shocked the hell out of me by running his hand almost apologetically over my wounded anatomy. I knew that I was staring like a wide-eyed, gape-mouthed, country yokel, but I couldn't help it. Wufei just did not _do_ things like that.     Heero tapped me lightly in the temple with a laugh. "Pay attention," he told me softly. "And close your mouth. You're giving everyone far too many ideas."     I settled back down and closed my mouth with a sigh, wondering if the night—all right, technically the morning—could get any weirder. Scratch that—I didn't want to know.     Richard sighed in exasperation, muttering, "They're as bad as you," to Jean-Claude.     Jean-Claude's burning prussian blue eyes widened in innocence. "Moi?" he asked, placing a hand against his chest. He smiled, reaching over and brushing his fingers gently down the side of Richard's face. "You don't give yourself enough credit, _mon chere_. Why, just last night—" Richard growled lowly, snapping his teeth at Jean-Claude's fingers which had moved just out of reach.     I sighed, rolling over so I was almost on my side but still sprawled quite comfortably across Heero's and Wufei's laps. "Could you save the love play for later? I'd like to hear all of what's going to happen before I'm old and grey."     Richard and Jean-Claude looked at each other and then both burst into full-blown laughter. "'…old and grey…'" Jean-Claude repeated breathlessly, breaking off into another gale of laughter. "That's a good one!"     The vampire was all but sprawled out across Richard, one arm thrown about the werewolf's shoulders as they supported each other in their mutual amusement. I was struck again by how shocking the contrast was between them. Richard with his tall, heavily muscled frame, richly tanned skin, chocolate brown eyes, and chestnut hair that was threaded with so many other colours it actually defied description; Jean-Claude with his pale, milky skin, burning prussian blue eyes, long blue-black hair, and lean dancer's build.     And yet, they seemed to fit. I had a feeling that hadn't always been the case, however. Call it my female intuition, if you want; just don't bother to point out that I'm not female, because I'm sure I'll manage to come up with a logical argument for why my wording works.     "I'm sorry, Duo," Jean-Claude said softly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just that you still have quite a bit to learn."     I frowned, coming as close to a pout as I ever did. "I know that," I muttered. "You don't have to keep reminding me of that fact."     Richard nodded, giving me that lopsided grin of his that flashed a lot of white teeth and made you think of descriptions like 'Boy Scout,' 'guy next door,' and 'good ol' boy.' "You're right, Duo. We'll try to stick to the matter at hand and not get distracted by more…tempting…things."     Anita made her return about halfway through Richard's apology, the strikingly handsome Asher beside her. She frowned, glancing from her lovers to me, Heero, and Wufei several times before her gaze settled on Jean-Claude and Richard. "You didn't say anything to make him mad, did you?" she asked them, gesturing towards me.     With identical 'Who, me?' expressions, the two in question shook their heads. "_Non, ma petite_. We were simply awaiting the arrival of Asher and yourself before we progressed."     "Well, then, progress we shall," Anita said with a small gesture. She took Richard's place on the desk when he jumped down, Asher moving to stand beside her, slightly to the back.     "First of all, you're going to need to take your clothes off," Richard said without preamble.     Anita groaned and shook her head, while Jean-Claude snickered openly and Asher muffled a laugh of his own. "Nice way to start things off, Richard," she muttered.     Blinking for a moment, I gave him a dubious look. "Give me a good reason why."     "Because when you change you'll rip the clothes to well beyond shreds," Anita said blandly, her feet kicking idly as she continued to perch on the edge of the ornate desk. "I have a feeling you're attached to them, so I suggest you take them off."     "All right," I grumbled, sitting up. 'Strip in front of strangers' hadn't exactly been on my 'Things to Do' list or anything, but I was going to do it nonetheless.     The shirt came off easily enough and I draped it over Wufei's head with a laugh. He looked so cute scowling out from underneath purple silk with his arms crossed in a pout. Heero got to hold all of the jewellery—sans cross since the cross check-in girl still had that—and the hair tie that I pulled from my hair, freeing the heavy mass. I nearly sighed with relief as I finger combed through it. Hair as thick as mine is heavy and you can't wear it up for very long without giving yourself a headache. Boots and socks came off next, and both Heero and Wufei laughed as they peered down at my feet.     "Nice toenails, Duo," Wufei said with a snicker, a black brow arched.     I looked down at my toenails wondering what the hell he was talking about and groaned, shaking my head in disbelief. "Quatre is sooo dead," I vowed.     Why was Quatre going to die by my hands at the soonest available opportunity? Here's why: Mr. 'I'm-just-an-innocent-rich-blonde-boy…really!' Quatre Raberba Winner had somehow—probably during one of the numerous times this week when I'd been sloshed—managed to paint my toenails with various shockingly bright neon colours and had put little black cat stickers on them. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed them in the shower.     However, that was a revenge that could be plotted later; I had other things that I needed to be doing at that moment.     The leather pants took some work to get off, and I had to stand up to wiggle out of them. From behind, I could feel eyes on me, hot like branding irons. I shivered at the weight of those gazes, bending down to slip the pants from my ankles. Wufei made a few catcalls and appreciative whistles once I stood up again and began to fold the pants that had me almost—almost—blushing. See, they weren't the kind of pants you could wear underwear with without having very betraying lines. So I had foregone the underwear all together.     Of course, I hadn't really planned on having to strip for an audience.     "Now what?" I asked, fighting the urge to duck and cover. Being exposed to a room of people—of which you only really know and trust two—clad in your birthday suit can be just a bit intimidating.     Heero caught my hand in his, and I turned to give him a quizzical look as his thumb began to trace slow patterns over my palm. "The bracers, Duo," he said softly, the fingers of his other hand tracing over the metal buckles. His eyes watched me, waiting for my answer.     My eyes widened and I turned with almost numb shock to look at Wufei. His sloe eyes were steady as ever, and I clung to that like a lifeline. I was pleading for help with my eyes, my mind, and my heart—and within that room that was now beginning to seem claustrophobic, Wufei was the only one I could turn to.     Since Heero had been returned to us from the dead I'd either worn long sleeves around him or the forearm bracers. There was a reason for that, a reason that all of my friends except Heero knew about. I'd begged the others not to tell him of my awful secret, of the terrible and incredibly stupid thing I had done while he was dead, and my friends had acceded to my wishes—though, to give him credit, Wufei had argued that point until he was hoarse.     The night had been too strange by far, and in some ways extremely traumatising as well. I wasn't ready to face Heero's reaction to what lay beneath the layers of leather and metal that encased my forearms.     I turned even more, tugging my hand free from Heero's as I face them both. "Wufei," I whispered, voice thick and harsh even in my ears.     Fuck, I sounded like the world's biggest crybaby.     Wufei gave me that adorable little smile of his and gently grasped my wrist. He tugged me down into his lap, arms wrapping comfortingly around my trembling body. "He should know, Duo," Wufei said quietly.     In reply, I shook my head, burying my face in the crook of his neck. This was familiar…this I could handle. How many nights had I spent like this while Heero was gone?     Musk and clove teased my senses, and I had the overpowering urge to raise my head and lap at the bronzed skin of Wufei's neck like the big cat everyone thought I was. But I squashed that urge, burrowing deeper into Wufei's embrace. Those weird, over-active hormones were really beginning to get on my nerves. "I don't want him to know," I rasped to Wufei, my hands clenched in his shirtfront. "I'm ashamed and dirty—"     Wufei hugged me tightly, one hand lacing into my hair and slipping through in soft tugs. "We all are, Shi-chan," he told me sternly, wringing a laugh from me at the use of that silly, stupid nickname. "If the rest of us could accept and understand, do you really think Heero will be any different?"     I sat up slowly and glanced at the person in question. We'd been talking about him as if he hadn't been there, and I was still pretty much oblivious to the half dozen other people in the room. Heero gazed at me with calm eyes, his expression one of infinite patience.     "All—all right," I stuttered hesitantly. Still seated in Wufei's lap and within the circle of his arms, I undid the buckles on both bracers. Taking in a deep breath and biting my lip in anticipation of Heero's expected reaction, I slipped both forearm coverings off at the same time.     The scars really weren't doing all that bad, I thought, gazing down at my arms with an almost frightening detachedness. They were still a livid, angry purple, but they weren't built up as I had worried they would. The scars—which bedecked both of my arms—began at the base of each hand and continued to just past the bend in my elbow.     I'm sure that everyone knew by now what those scars indicated. Yes, I'd been an idiot and tried to commit suicide. It wasn't like I'd succeeded or anything, but I'd pissed everyone off real bad. Wufei'd wanted to kill me himself, but kept reminding himself—out loud—that that would be counterproductive. Quatre had wanted to string me up and beat me; instead, he'd just drugged me up to my eyeballs and sicced Wufei on me. Trowa was just going to feed me to those pet lions of his, and he had a very logical and eloquent speech that he gave for why that was a _good_ thing. And Heero… Naa, Heero'd been dead at the time, and that had pretty much been the reason for my being an idiot anyway.     A light finger traced the scars, first on the left arm, then the right. "It doesn't matter anymore, Duo," Heero told me softly, his gaze never once leaving mine. "This is our past, and we can't go back to it. All we can do is move on and try to forget."     "Can we really do that?" I asked hoarsely. Shinigami knows how much I wanted to believe him, but I'm probably the most cynical one of our group, and I have a hard time believing anything that sounds remotely nice or too good to be true.     "We can if we allow ourselves to," Wufei said, giving me another hug.     Then next words out my mouth shocked me. "I'm scared," I whispered, beginning to tremble.     Shinigami, kick my ass now; crybaby mode has moved onto level two.     "That's why we're going to be right here with you, Duo," Heero said fiercely, eyes sparking with fire.     "Promise?" I asked with a hint of a smile.     I could feel a sort of bond tying the three of us together now, and it provided me with a comfort I hadn't known in a long time. "Promise," Wufei and Heero said together.     Taking in a deep breath, I met Anita's eyes over Heero's head. "All right then, I'm ready."     Anita smiled softly and nodded. "All right then, let's begin." 

To say that the waiting was wearing on my patience would have been an understatement. I don't like to sit still for very long—as Anita pointed out earlier, my attention span sucks. I could feel Heero and Wufei standing behind me, their hands linked. Anita, Jean-Claude, and Richard stood in front of me, lightly touching one another as well. 

    Me? I was bare-ass naked crouched on a stone floor. If it hadn't been for the fact that I'd been told silence was necessary for them to concentrate enough to call my beast, I would have been pulling my childish 'Are we there yet?' act on them.     Instead, I sighed and tried to relax. Tried to, being the operative word. If something didn't happen real soon, I was going to go stir crazy and start ripping down wall hangings or something.     Suddenly, Anita's eyes flashed open and she stepped forward. There was something in her eyes that frightened me, as if Anita weren't really the one occupying her body. "Duo Maxwell, it is time to shed the veil that is not yours. It is time to loose the skin that does not belong. By the power of the lukoi, by the power of the pard, let thy inner self be free."     I gasped as a warm sensation spread through my body, my eyes going wide. I looked down at my hands in utter astonishment, watching as bone and muscle, tendon and ligament, flowed like water to change and mould into short-toed paws. Fine black hair sprouted from my flesh covering the limbs like an onyx blanket. I think I may have screamed at one point; it's a bit disconcerting to feel bones break and mend themselves into a form you're not used to. The weirdest sensation of all was when I suddenly found myself with a prehensile tail. I tried to let out a sound of surprise, but all that came out was a guttural growl.     Before I knew it, I was standing on four legs with my tail lashing in agitation. It was disconcerting to suddenly be so short; I didn't like having to gaze up at everyone. And my vision was a little distorted, which was going to take some getting used to. My sense of smell was heightened beyond my imagination, much to my surprise. My nostrils flared as they caught a welcome scent; blood. Apparently Wufei had caught himself on something during the night, because the wound wasn't very old. I licked my canines, turning with a small purr to focus my gaze on Wufei. I was suddenly a bit hungry.     "That's enough!" Heero growled, his eyes snapping open to focus on me. I stopped in my tracks, wondering what he was referring to.     I soon found out. Much quicker than they had occurred, my body reverted to the form I was used to—Duo 'the human' Maxwell—and I curled up on the cold stone floor with a shiver. I gazed at my hands in shock, bringing them up to feel my teeth. No really pointy teeth in my mouth was a good sign, right? And my body _seemed_ to be back to normal.     "How do you feel?" Heero asked, slipping the blanket Anita had handed him over my shoulders.     I opened my mouth to reply but no sound emerged. With a frown I tried again, this time with a bit more success. "Shaky and tired…exhilarated and on edge." I blinked and looked up at Richard. "I have an urge for raw meat. Warm, still bleeding, raw meat."     Richard laughed, picking me up off the floor and carrying me back over to the couch as if I were nothing more than a sack of flour. "That's not all that unusual," he said, setting me down next to Wufei, who had already claimed a place on the couch once again.     I snuggled close, rubbing my cheek against silky bronze skin. I noticed that his skin was awfully warm. Come to think of it, Wufei was always a little bit warmer than the rest of us. Curling up against him was like lying down in front of a blazing wood stove—the cat in me really appreciated that analogy. I also began to notice other things as I continued to lean against Wufei. I could hear his pulse in my head, nearly taste it in the back of my mouth; I could discern every individual odour on his skin; I could sense every shift and play of muscle.     Wufei gave me a funny look, touching my cheek lightly. "Duo, are you okay?" he asked.     I smiled and said weakly. "Yeah. Why shouldn't I be? Just because I turned into a fucking large black cat—"     "With beautiful purple eyes?"     I rolled my eyes. Does Quatre know how to start a conversation or what? "I don't know," I told him, peering up at him owlishly. I didn't bother to remove my cheek from Wufei's shoulder; I was more than comfortable, and I wasn't about to move even if my life depended on it, I was _that_ tired. "I was kind of busy being the panther, so it wasn't like I had a chance to look at myself from the outside or anything."     Wufei snickered, giving me an unreadable look. "Yes, his eyes were purple, Quatre. You know Duo; gotta have a signature something, or he's not happy."     "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked suspiciously.     "Nothing," Heero answered for him, settling onto the couch on my other side. He gave me a seductive smile, and I had to fight for coherent thought.     "Are you sure?" I asked him, leaning over to trace circles on his chest. "Because I was almost certain that there was something meant by that comment."     When both Wufei and Heero continued to give me innocent expressions, I crossed my arms over my chest and began to pout. "Fine. I'll just go visit Quatre."     Quatre and Trowa had settled into the couch on the other side of the room. Quatre's eyes were narrowed in thought, and he seemed a bit distracted. Perfect, I thought, with a wicked grin. I stood up, letting the blanket drop.     "Duo, what are you doing?" Heero asked, an eyebrow arched in curiosity.     "Nothing," I replied, mimicking him as I batted my eyelashes. "Could you please hand me my pants?" Heero complied and I quickly put the garment on with a sigh of relief; finally I could return to a semi-draft free existence. Then, with my usual abandon, I launched myself across the room right onto Quatre's lap. "Yaa, Quatre!" I chirped, twining my arms around his neck.     "Yes, Duo?" Quatre asked, giving me a cute little smile.     I responded by running my fingers through his hair. It was so soft, and the way the light shimmered off of it, his hair looked like molten moonlight; all in all, an extremely beautiful sight. Those shiver sparks of sensation from earlier were much stronger than before, growing stronger the more I looked at Quatre, the more I touched him. They were urging me to…     To what, exactly?     "Duo, are you all right?" Quatre queried softly, his aqua eyes wide with worry.     I brushed my worried thoughts aside rather easily. Grinning wickedly, I narrowed my eyes as I turned in his lap and pounced, pinning him beneath me. "I am now!" I told him gleefully before pulling him into a rather forceful lip lock.     Dimly I was aware of sounds of dismay from around me, but I couldn't have cared less. _This_ was what those sparks were urging me to do, and I was damned if I was going to fight them anymore. I could feel Quatre's hands on my face, gently trying to pry me off. After a moment, I complied and sat back with a pout. "What, you don't want me?" I asked. I realised, as soon as the words left my mouth, that though they had been intended as teasing, I was actually serious.     …What the fuck was going on?     Quatre looked beyond confused—well, at least I wasn't the only one. "Duo, I don't know what's going on, but you're acting a little strange."     "Whatever do you mean?" I asked, beginning to lightly stroke his arm. Okay, so I knew exactly what he was referring too, and it was bothering me as well, but coherent thought and logical wording seemed a bit beyond me at the moment. Quatre's skin was soft and smooth; it kind of felt like satin.     Instead of answering me, Quatre looked around me towards Heero and Wufei. "Ummm…could you guys give me some help here?" he asked.     I wasn't really paying attention anymore to what was going on. I was more focused on the sensation of the texture of Quatre's skin. I could here the buzzing drone of voices in the background, but I couldn't readily make out words; all that mattered was that _touch_. After a moment, I felt hands on my arms; warm hands, so I knew it was Wufei.     "Come on, Duo. Let's get you back to your side of the room," he said, removing my limbs from around Quatre.     "Okay," I said in agreement; I actually wasn't all that sure what I was agreeing to, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I let him draw me back towards the other couch, slowly contemplating what my fingers wanted to do next. I smiled softly to myself when I came to a conclusion.     Sometimes I am _such_ a genius.     As soon as Wufei sat back down, I jumped into _his_ lap. "Naa, Wufei, have I told you lately that I find you sexy?" I purred, straddling his legs. Yep, I definitely wasn't in my right mind. Though I'd kind of been thinking along those lines all night, there was no way in hell that I'd ever have voiced that aloud. Of course, moving back on to the situation at…hand…     I didn't give him a chance to answer my odd question; I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. Unlike Quatre, Wufei didn't fight me; he let me kiss, nibble, and lick to my heart's content—he didn't really participate, either, which was something of a disappointment, but I wasn't going to complain. No siree bob, not me. When I finally had to pull back or risk breathing difficulties, I was a bit shocked to see that Wufei seemed amused.     "Is this a normal side effect?" he asked Anita.     Anita shook her head, looking quite bewildered. Oh, look, the confusion must be contagious. She glanced at Richard and Jean-Claude, both of whom seemed a bit disturbed as well. "Sometimes, during a hunt this will happen. But I've never seen anything like _this_."     "Like what?" I asked, rather intent on trying to figure out how to get off Wufei's shirt. Let's see… It didn't have a zipper, buttons, or snaps, so—     "Duo, did you speak with anyone upstairs?" Jean-Claude asked me softly, drawing my attention.     I had to think about that one a moment; let me tell ya, it was awfully hard to think around raging hormones. "I talked to the lady at the counter so I could get a drink, then I talked to the café owner—She liked to talk even more than I do!—and then I talked to this weird chick that kept petting my arm, and she said her name was Ellinore or something. She was a bit freaky."     Back to the shirt…     "Fuck," Anita swore, snarling as she turned to Asher who had been standing silently in the corner. "Asher, hurry and find Prycia."     "Yes, Anita," the blonde vampire murmured, leaving the room faster than my eyes could follow.     I blinked, and then smiled as I registered where I was. "Now where was I?" I purred, wiggling in Wufei's lap. "I remember. I was about to divest you of these annoying clothes and toss you on the floor so I could have my wicked way with you."     Heero coughed from beside me. I glanced at him and grinned, leaning over to give him a loud, smacking kiss on the lips. "Don't worry, Heero, you're next," I assured him.     Much to my disgust, Asher had somehow already managed to return with Prycia by the time I'd turned my attention back to Wufei. "Spoilsports," I muttered darkly, collapsing onto the couch between Wufei and Heero. I kept myself entertained by tracing patterns on Heero's leather clad thigh while I waited to find out what was going on. It was hard to pay attention since all of my other senses seemed to clamour for me to do other things with them, but I forced myself to behave; growing up in a Catholic church orphanage has _some_ benefits.     "Anita, what's going on?" Prycia asked in bewilderment, scraping hair from in front of her face as she took in the room. I grinned and wiggled my fingers at her before returning to more interesting pursuits. Glancing between Heero and Wufei, I pursed my lips in vacant thought. I really seemed to go for the exotic ones….     "We don't know," Anita said with a sigh, leaning back against Jean-Claude for support. "We tried to call Duo's beast; everything went real smooth and we succeeded without a hitch. However, when he reverted to human form, he began to act like a sex crazed maniac."     "I resent that," I retorted, glaring up at her. "It's not like I've tried to jump you, Jean-Claude, or Richard. Not that it isn't tempting or anything—well, not really, since Jean-Claude scares the shit out of me and I trust you about as far as I could throw you underwater with one hand tied behind my back. Um, no offence. And, anyway, Trowa looks far more enticing, you know. It's those long limbs and that mysterious air his hair and eyes give him," I said. I smiled at Trowa, who just sighed and shook his head.     "See what I mean," Anita said with a raised eyebrow; apparently I hadn't offended her, which was a good thing. "The only clue Duo came up with was that he talked to someone named Ellinore—or something like that—when he was up in the café. You wouldn't happen to know who he was talking about, would you?"     Prycia gasped and shook her head. "No, it can't be. She wouldn't dare to come here."     "Is it who we think it is, Prycia?" Jean-Claude asked her gently.     "It can't be Ellinea!" Prycia blurted out, her eyes wide. "Not even she would dare to break the Seelie Court's ward again."     "Was the woman's name Ellinea?" Jean-Claude asked me, his magnetic blue eyes catching hold of mine.     Oooh, pretty blue eyes… You know, the things that were captivating my attention right now were pretty damn stupid when you got right down to it. "Ellinea, Ellinore, what's the difference?" I asked with a shrug.     "A lot," Anita snapped. "If it was Ellinea, then you're in deep shit, Duo."     "Why's that?" I asked curiously, propping myself up against Wufei's shoulder. I sensed a story with a capital 'S.'     "Ellinea is a cousin of mine," Prycia said, her hands knotting together. "She was once a member of the highest court of the Daoine Sidhe; the Seelie Court. She had beauty, power, charm, wit; she had everything that anyone could desire.     "Everything but power. Her magic was very limited, and so Ellinea began to practise the magic of the Unseelie Court in order to increase her power. For over three centuries her exploits went unnoticed, until she drew the attention of the entire court by going after someone in the World of Iron. The Seelie Court banished her to the outer rims of their realm, and told her that if she ever broke Seelie Ward again, she'd be sentenced to death.     "There aren't many things that a full-blooded Sidhe fears, but death is one of them. I just can't believe that she'd break the ward and enter the World of Iron again," Prycia whispered.     "Well, it _is_ Daoine Sidhe taint, if you'll forgive the phrasing," Quatre said, his gaze hawk-like in intensity as he glared at her. I was glad that I wasn't the one he was staring down, especially since he seemed to thing that Daoine Sidhe taint was a bad thing.     Hmmm… I'd always thought that the Unseelie Court had been the bad guys. Maybe I'd been wrong, especially if that Ellinea woman was from the Seelie Court.     "But what kind of a spell could she have placed on your friend?" Prycia stated in confusion, her cheeks flushed with colour. Yep, Quatre had apparently managed to embarrass her with his little comment. "There aren't that many forms of magic that shapeshifters will fall prey to."     "It's a glamour, I think," Wufei murmured, gazing down at me speculatively. I grinned up at him, not caring a whit what they were talking about. "A lust glamour, to be more specific. Something that would cause Duo to be drawn to her. Unfortunately for her, she apparently wasn't able to stick around for it to kick in."     "Yeah, she did take off in a bit of a hurry," I said in agreement. "This guy with a long black ponytail and mean-looking eyes came in and spoke to her, and then she up and left. Let me tell ya, that guy was just as weird as she was. Looked like he came right out of the Tokugawa Shogunate, and from the colour and style of his outfit, I bet he was Shinsengumi."     I _really_ liked history lessons. They were about the only thing Father Maxwell and Professor G. could get me to sit still for.     "Oh, shit," Richard said, his expression dark. "This is the last thing we need."     "What?" I asked in confusion—I'd been doing that quite a lot lately, in case you hadn't noticed. "What'd I say?"     "It looks like we have a problem on our hands," Jean-Claude murmured. "If Miburou has allied himself with Ellinea, we could be looking at a rebellion against the control measures the council has instituted. Richard, Asher, please try to locate Shinta. I know he'll be…upset…but I believe that bringing him in on this is absolutely necessary. Meanwhile, let us try to come up with a solution for Duo's…predicament."     Predicament? What predicament? All I needed was someone to screw me silly and I'd be happy…for a while, at least.     I watched from the corner of my eye as Heero looked at Wufei and Wufei looked at Heero. "This could be a problem," Wufei murmured. Heero smirked, and added, "But it could be a pleasant problem.     I glanced between them in confusion. "What are you two babbling about?" I asked.     Great: earlier I'd been vying for the Crybaby of the Year award, and now I was vying for Clueless Moron of the Year. Life sucked right now.     "Is it all right if we return to our safe house?" Heero asked, completely ignoring my question.     "Probably for now," Anita said after she thought about it. "It's getting close to daylight hours, and if Ellinea's allied herself with the vampires, she's not likely to be moving around during the day. I'll take you up to the café myself."     "Thanks," Heero murmured, rising to his feet.     Out of nowhere, a wave of total exhaustion hit; my eyelids were refusing to stay open and my eyes didn't want to focus. I wondered for a brief instant if Quatre had being doing some sort of hand waving and arcane chanting from his corner, but it took too much brain capacity to think about it for very long. I felt Wufei pick me up like a child, cradling me in his arms as we headed for the door. It took him a moment to get my hair out of the way, and I vaguely heard him mutter something about giving me a trim. I was too tired to make death threats for even speaking of bringing scissors near my hair.     I laced my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook. "Will you tuck me in when we get home?" I asked, knowing that I probably sounded rather incoherent. Well, good; I _was_ incoherent.     Wufei chuckled, kissing my forehead briefly. "Aa, Shi-chan. Now go to sleep."     Unable to come up with a suitable retort, I complied and let myself slide into blissful blackness. 

* * *

[1]. I couldn't really think of a word to describe what Heero is. There isn't really anything like him (so far, anyway) in the actual Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter world. So I went a-hunting back in my video collection, and borrowed this little word from none other than Vampire Hunter D. Arigatou, D-san! 

[2]. ::Mina, who's singing while bouncing around on her computer chair.:: 

'WHAT'S UP   
hitomi o kawashite nazomeita kaze ni mi o yudane you  
GET UP  
mirai o mitsumete yokubarina ai to yume o kanae you'  


[What's up  
Tear your eyes from the puzzling wind so you can trust somebody  
Get up  
Look at the future in order for greedy love and dreams to come true]  


::wink:: Shameless _Bakuretsu Hunters_ plug. I _love_ the song 'What's Up Guys?' sung by Furumoto Shinnosuke & Hayashibara Megumi. It's just so…_fun_! 

Author's Delirious Ramblings: ::blink, blink:: Okay, minasama, here's the explanation for what the hell happened to this chapter of _Blood Dance_. At least, I _think_ it's an explanation. 

    You see, the chapter began in a cheery little computer room, deep within an unexplored sector of the Makai. It was heading for a nice little place known as 'within-acceptable-limits-of-insanity-for-a-fanfiction-author-who-isn't-quite-human'—::Kagekoku - The Shadowlands:: website—when my foxboy muse had to poke his wet nose into the matter. That's where everything went wrong. The story then took a left turn at Albuquerque, stopped for a week or two in a falling down hut in backwater Mongolia, jumped a freighter for Cape Verde, and somehow managed to wind up in one of Washuu-chan's dimensional closets where it underwent only Megami-sama knows what type of deranged experiments.     Are you lost yet? Don't worry; I think part of myself got left behind with Washuu, too.     Basically, Part 4 took on a life all of its own. I felt as though I was merely a bystander watching in horror as this latest act wrote itself. My original intentions were for this to be a 1x2 story, and now it's ended up being a 1x2x5 with 3x4 jumping in on the action occasionally.     ::sigh:: And one of the things I said I'd never do was write threesomes. Mou, would somebody smack me upside the head, pretty please? Besides, it's not like you're _complaining_ about this particular threesome, right? Right?     Also, I didn't really intend to throw _Rurouni Kenshin_ in here. I had intended to throw the Tokugawa Shogunate stuff in, and somehow Kenshin and Saitou just popped in. Hontou ni! It wasn't on purpose, but I like it, so it's staying. Though I have a feeling Saitou may end up with some _Kaze Hikaru_ influence thrown in.     Anyway, I hope that everyone enjoyed this instalment of _Blood Dance_. It was quite literally a labour of blood, sweat, and tears—as well as no small amount of foul language—and, as much as it pains me to admit it, it was quite fun to write. Hopefully I managed to stay along the lines of the _Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter_ novels with the way this part flowed; there were sometimes that I wasn't quite sure if I was.     As always, feedback is craved as much as Pepsi and Pocky. Jaa ne, minna! 

[Part 5] 


	5. Part 5

**Blood Dance —**  
Part 5  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Gundam Wing_ apply. _Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter_ belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, not me. All other deranged characters in this rather deranged fic—yes, that includes the screwy plot—belong to me. Oh, wait. Saitou and Kenshin belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro and Sony. Damn; guess another set got away from me. ::Mina turns even chibier than she usually is and wails, "It's just not fair!":: 

Warnings: ::Mina steps out in full angelic array—which is completely marred by evil glinting black eyes and the fangs peaking out.:: "Ossu, minasama! I have another engagement at this moment, and so I have relegated my glorious muse to give you the low down. It's all yours, K'lendel-musuko!" ::Scampers off before she can be hauled back in and held accountable.:: 

::K'lendel wanders in—correction, _stumbles_ in as Mina gives him a shove from behind—looking rather distressed.:: "Ano ne, kaachan…anou, Mina-sama…eeto…" 

::Mina peeks around the corner to glare.:: "Just get on with it! My ship leaves for Eden in two minutes, so make it snappy if you want to come." 

::K'lendel looks horrified and nods, burgundy hair flying wildly.:: "Hai, kaachan!" ::Turns to the audience, looking serious.:: "Okay, minasama, here's the situation. The following fic contains language, most of it not very nice. This fic also contains adult themes in a vast array of citrus flavours. This fic is dark and contains possibly disgusting and graphic descriptions of horrific things. This fic may 'squick' some people's sense of propriety, this fic may 'squick' several people's sense of morality, and that's the way it's going to be. There will be no revisions to the plot of this portion of the fic; it will stand as is except for minor tweaking." ::wink:: "Shitsurei shimasu, but I'd better catch that ship to Eden before you begin to read. Ganbare, minasama!" 

* * *

Waking up was strange. I'd done it thousands of times before, but it felt different this time. Something in my chest felt heavy, and my head felt as though it were filled with cotton. There was an air of density in the room, a strange sort of almost humid thickness that pervaded around me.     Mentally, I giggled; heh, too many molecules in the room again… Er, sorry, Cuervo hallucination flashback.     I opened my eyes slowly, blinking back tears as light flooded in and burned. Funny; now that my eyes were open, it felt as if my face was on fire where the light touched me, as well. I rolled and wiggled in an effort to get away from that evil heat source, finding a cooler spot in the sheets to press my face.     Ah, bliss!     With the muzziness still influencing my head, I tried to think back on what had happened the night before to put me in such a state. I remembered the dance club with Wufei; I remembered staring at Wufei's leather clad ass as it wriggled in through the window and thinking lascivious thoughts; I remembered pinning Heero to the bed and kissing him—and doing a few other things; I remembered Quatre's interesting attire when we boarded the bus for Féeriques Coteau, as well as Trowa's unusual accessories; I remembered finding out that Wufei had a pet demon; I remembered finding out that there was such a thing as a cross check-in girl; I remembered finding out that Trowa had a weird relationship with the moon; I remembered a beautiful but untouchably cold redheaded vampire named Damian and the endlessly amused, carefree-seeming Jason-the-werewolf; I remembered that Heero was Jean-Claude's son; I remembered that Anita was a necromancer who somehow could channel lycanthropic power; I remembered that I had spoken with a pretty half-Sidhe woman who owned the café; I remembered that I had changed into a fucking big, black cat…     _Then_ I remembered that I had tried to jump nearly everything with two legs afterwards.     Stifling a very inarticulate groan, I buried my face deeper into the cool sheet. What the hell had I _done_ last night? _Lost that thing resembling sanity…again…apparently_, the nasty portion of my brain retorted.     Have I mentioned that all of my brain seems to be rather nasty lately?     The door opened, but I didn't look to see who it was. I didn't _have_ to look and see who it was. I recognised the light, stealthy-yet-bouncy step across the floorboards, as well as the faint hint of sandalwood and cedar.     "Come on, Duo, it's time to take your medicine," Quatre chirped, collapsing bonelessly beside me on the floor.     …It's really disgusting how flexible the little neo-hippie punk is. All that stupid yoga shit, no doubt.     "Duo's dead," I muttered, spitting sheet from my mouth. Damn Quatre and his cheerfulness. Besides, if he'd made the 'medicine' I was supposed to take, I didn't know if I wanted to take it. I kind of have this little thing in my head I like to call self-preservation, and currently Quatre was still on my self-preservation no-no list.     Damn, stupid herbal-supporting neo-hippie punk. …Great, I'm repeating myself now.     Quatre laughed at me, scraping bangs from in front of his big aqua eyes. "Oh, come on, Duo, it's not that bad. It's just a little something to help keep the hormones suppressed. You know, so you'll quit jumping everything that breaths."     I turned just enough so that I could give him a good glare. "I was not jumping everything that breathed," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. It was really hard to do, since I knew he wasn't that far off.     Rolling his eyes, Quatre said, "Sure, Duo, you keep telling yourself that. Denial is an ugly thing, but I can understand why you'd rather live in your own little world."     His expression turned serious, mouth hardening, eyes steely. "However, I'm not leaving here until you drink every last drop of the potion I brought you. And I'm not turning you loose from this room unless it all slides down that pretty little throat of yours, my friend. So, in other words, if you want to know what's going on and want to help us catch the fucked up bitch that did this to you, be a good boy and drink Bachan Quatre's magic brew."     Bachan Quatre… I couldn't help it. I rolled over in hysterical laughter, tears rolling down my face as I clutched at my aching abdomen. "Bachan Quatre," I gasped. "Magic brew? Shit, Quatre, you sound like something out of _Hansel and Gretel_!"     Sighing, Quatre rose to his knees, leaning across the bed and brushing hair out of my face. "I mean it, Duo," he told me softly. "You're a danger to us and to yourself if the glamour takes hold again, and this is the best I can come up with on such short notice."     He was serious, and he was worried. Quatre worries about us all a lot—he's kind of like a mother hen, in that respect—but not necessarily with unfounded reason. I mean, it's not like we're the most stable fivesome wandering around. I hated when he worried, though, and not just because he got all puppy-eyed and pouty. My blonde friend may be sadistic, he may be cold and cruel, he may be cunning and vicious, but he is the only one out of all of us that can manage a pure smile. "Fine, Quatre, I'll take the medicine."     "Yatta!" Quatre's fist punched the air, his face splitting with a wide grin. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out at his expression, and a cold, sinking feeling filled my chest. For some reason, I felt as though I had just signed my soul over to Satan. "Here you go," he said, handing a styrofoam cup to me. "I put it in your coffee, so you shouldn't even be able to taste it."     I groaned, burying my face in the sheets again. Was I _ever_ going to be able to take coffee from Quatre again without having it laced with drugs of some kind?     Sitting up with a sigh, I scraped my hair behind my shoulders, wincing when my fingers hit some nasty tangles. I was going to have a hell of a time brushing my hair out later, and I was not looking forward to it. Taking the cup, I took the lid off, sniffing the faintly steaming liquid suspiciously. Well, it _smelled_ normal. Hopefully it would taste normal, too. "Kanpai!" I declared with a lot more confidence than I felt, tipping the cup back and downing a good third of the contents in one gulp.     "Still think you're going to die?" Quatre asked a couple minutes later, chin cupped in his hands as he stared up at me.     Shaking my head, I drained the last of the contents from the cup, reaching over his head to toss it in the trashcan. "Ch', if I've managed to make it _this_ far, I'm sure that I'll make it for at least another two to three hundred years without any major crisis' occurring."     Chuckling, Quatre reached out a hand for me to help pull him to his feet. "Good attitude, Duo! Now let's go out and get 'em tiger—er, panther."     Sighing, I helped him to his feet, gazing up into his big aqua eyes with a wry smile. Quatre's sense of humour was strange—not as strange as Wufei's, mind you, but it was definitely in a league of its own. "Guess it's time for me to face the music." Hopefully someone would tell me what all I had done last night—_nicely_—and I wouldn't have to find out the hard way.     "The music isn't that bad," Quatre said with a laugh, tugging me in the direction of the door.     I arched an eyebrow at that. "That depends on what music's playing," I murmured, following him with only a slight stumble in the doorway. Damn; kept forgetting about that hole in the doorway. I really needed to write down somewhere a memo for me to remember to take care of that.     "Trowa cooked breakfast," Quatre remarked, leading me unerringly for our little kitchen/dining room area. "I wasn't sure if you'd want anything or not, but we saved a waffle for you."     "Sankyuu," I said, blowing jagged bangs out of my eyes with a puff of irritation. I had just realized that I'd left the sanctity of my room without checking my appearance over or without taking care of my hair. I never do things like that. I'm very vanity-conscious.     Things seemed normal enough. Trowa's lanky form was sprawled out across the couch, his head barely visible over the top of the newspaper he was reading. When we came in, he looked up, gifting Quatre with a brilliant smile and me with a nod. Heero's laptop was sitting out in plain sight on the middle of the table, monitor flipped up, but the little sticky notes that had so annoyed me before were, thankfully, in absence. Heero himself seemed to be in absence as well, and Wufei was just coming out of the kitchen. He gave me a small smile—you know, one of those little ones that makes you just wanna melt and coo "Sexy!" I tried to keep my mind on task, though, and headed for the second couch.     "So what's the plan today?" I asked, throwing myself down onto the other couch. I grimaced as the couch groaned and creaked beneath me. Patting the cushion, I thought, I know how you feel, aibou.     "Well, Anita will be here to pick you up in about an hour for lunch," Wufei said, sitting down lotus-style on the floor below me.     "Lunch?" I turned my head, eyebrows drawn together—not to mention that my sense of self-preservation had just kicked itself into overdrive. "Why am I going to lunch with Anita?"     "Because she wants you to meet Shinta, the guy who might be able to help you," he said, head lolling back and the couch cushions. He smiled up at me, sloe eyes blinking lazily. "I think she also just wants to spend time with you and get to know you. She had kind of 'motherly' feelings for Nathaniel—don't you dare tell her I used those words—and I think she's transferred those feelings to you."     I chuckled at his wording, tapping him on the end of the nose. "Feeling transference?" I repeated. "Sounds kind of mystical to me." I didn't really believe what he was saying, however; I'd paid attention to the looks Anita had given me last night. She didn't see me as a person, she saw me as a thing—a powerful thing. I'd had people look at me like that my whole life, both before and after becoming a pilot for Deathscythe-Hell. I was a Newtype, after all, and we weren't exactly overpopulating the world or anything.     "It could be," Quatre chimed in, handing me a plate with the aforementioned waffle—loaded with peanut butter, whip cream, and chocolate syrup, which just happened to be my favourite way to eat waffles.[1] "It's hard to tell with women." He shared a knowing looked with Trowa, who was nodding and smiling ruefully in agreement.     Frowning, I began to pick at my waffle, absently shoving sticky pieces into my mouth as I thought. The way I saw it, I was adapting remarkably fast and well to the shocks and weirdness that had been thrown my way. I was coherent, for one thing, and I was almost certain that there were times yesterday I hadn't been. I also seemed to be perfectly okay with all the strange shit that had happened. Hmmm… Had Quatre slipped me a little something more than hormone suppressants?     "So I'm going to lunch with Anita alone?" I asked. My voice sounded awfully small to my ears, and I wondered for a moment if it had been my voice that had spoken. Like I said yesterday—or, at least, I think I said yesterday—I trusted Anita about as far as I could throw her, underwater, with one arm tied behind my back.     "It's not like she's going to bite or anything," Heero said as he strolled into the room, shrugging out of his jacket. Quatre might have given me something to take care of the glamour, but it was beginning to become rather evident that my attraction to Heero and Wufei was not glamour induced.     Well, at least, that's what certain portions of my anatomy were telling me.     Of course, the fact that Heero was wearing little more than a see-through white t-shirt and ripped, baggy jeans that showed more than they concealed wasn't helping matters. Neither was the fact that Wufei was currently playing 'connect the moles' on my arm with a cute scowl of concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips.     "Are you absolutely certain?" I asked, trying to get my thoughts back on track. I couldn't remember the last time I had ever been so confused. Only a couple of days ago I would have said that Wufei was nothing more than my best friend, and that Heero was the resurrected guy of my dreams. Now I was having the hardest time discerning the fine line between the two; any time I tried to see if there _was_ a difference in my feelings for them, things got kind of…fuzzy. Not as in an 'I can't see very well' kind of fuzzy; more like a 'which one is Heero and which one is Wufei' kind of fuzzy.     Heero smiled, eyes hooded. "Well, if she _does_ bite, I guess I'll just have to owe you something."     I rolled my eyes, sighing in exasperation. "Considering the fact that one of her lovers happens to be a vampire—your _otousan_, I might add—that's not exactly a very comforting thought."     …Until she proved otherwise, I wasn't going to trust Anita. I didn't exactly trust Jean-Claude or Richard either, but I trusted them more than Anita. There was just something…off, about Anita, and I think that her lovers knew it as well.     "You'll be fine," Wufei said, patting my arm reassuringly. Then he turned towards Heero, gesturing him over. "Take a seat and let us know what you found out."     As if there were no bones in his body, Heero collapsed onto the end of the couch, arms thrown over the back. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he sighed. "I wasn't really able to come up with very much new information," he said at last, opening his eyes and glancing at all of us. "Even down within the depths of Féeriques Coteau and despite their age, Asher, Damian, and Jean-Claude couldn't fight the effects of the sun much later than about eight this morning. However, Richard was able to pull up a little bit of information on why Ellinea dared to break Seelie Ward and enter our world again."     Oooh, a story! I leaned forward, resting my elbow on the arm of the couch, propping my chin up. "Okay, so spill," I said, hoping that I didn't sound _too_ eager.     Wufei chuckled—apparently I was too obvious—casting me a sly look. "Why, Duo, if I didn't know better, I might think that you had an interest in Ellinea."     I glanced at him as if he'd grown horns, hoping I looked as repulsed and shocked by the notion as I felt. "Puh-lease! As if trying to deal with you and Heero isn't enough. There's no way I'd be interested in the faerie bitch from hell. Personally, I'd like to kill her reeeaaalll slowly for what she did to me, but I have a feeling that it's going to be awhile before I get to do that."     Yes, I am now a prophet as well. Duo Maxwell, Newtype Extraordinaire: can become a snarling black panther with cobalt-coloured eyes as well as predict future events with fucked up and accurate abilities.     Wonder if Professor G. can suggest a good shrink nearby…     "Unfortunately, I have to concur," Heero said with a twist of his lips, more like a snarl than a smile. "Miburou commands a kiss of at least a dozen vampires, and Jean-Claude says that a minimum of four are masters allied with him. His powers are over shadows, deception. He can cloud your mind without your realisation, and he can hold minds in thrall for longer than any other vampire Jean-Claude knew of. Even the Traveler, one of the vampire Council's strongest masters, is wary of dealing with Miburou. No one could come up with a reason that Miburou would have allied himself with Ellinea. He bears no ties to the Sidhe, and tends to avoid anyone outside of the vampiric circles."     "So how'd the guy get so powerful?" I asked with a frown. "I mean, your dad's nothing to laugh at." Truth told, Richard and Jean-Claude had scared me more than Anita—well, at least in one sense. They seemed a bit more trustworthy in my eyes than Anita, though, and I couldn't really explain why.     Heero smiled at that, prussian eyes flashing in amusement. "My father has turned down a seat on the Council for over two hundred years. However, the Council never bothers to fill the position with anyone else. Especially since Anita accepted the fourth mark, no one has dared to challenge their right for the Council seat. Even though Jean-Claude doesn't sit on the Council in name, he is a Council member.     "However, even Miburou could be a challenge for Jean-Claude. There are very few among them that can even cloud the mind of another vampire, but Miburou is one such person. He's been around as a vampire since the end of the Meiji Restoration in Japan, which, as far as the ages of masters go, doesn't really seem like that long of a time. However, before that he _was_ Shinsengumi, much as you had mentioned last night. He led one of their squadrons, and was well renowned for his skill with the sword. Not necessarily a hitokiri for the Shinsengumi and the Bakufu, his skills were such that his kill ratio was higher than most."     He paused, lips pursed in thought. "Anita thinks that what made him so powerful is the fact that he didn't live for the kill, he lived for the domination. He wanted power over others, not necessarily by violence. If he could overwhelm someone through words or actions, it was just as thrilling as if he had proved he were the better swordsman. It wasn't always that way—his long history with Shinta is one such incident."     Well, now I had lots of food for thought. Anita wanted me to be with her when she met with Shinta. Shinta was supposed to be the guy that could give us a clue as to why Miburou had teamed up with the psycho faerie. And apparently Shinta and Miburou had a past history together.     …I still didn't like the fact that I was going to have to have lunch with Anita on my own; Shinta was, as of yet, an unknown equation and I didn't know exactly where to tally him in my ever-growing list of names.     "So, how does Shinta know Miburou?" I asked, brows drawn together.     It was Quatre who answered me. "Shinta is from the same era as Miburou. He fought during the Bakumatsu no Douran for the Ishin Shishi—in other words, against Miburou. That's where they originally met, anyway. They've encountered one another countless times since then."     "So, what? Shinta's a vamp too?" I asked in bewilderment. Had I somehow gotten myself in the middle of an old, bloodsucker family feud or something?     With a laugh, Quatre shook his blonde head. "No! You'll have to ask Shinta just what he is, because even I don't know; I have my suspicions, but I've never really had them confirmed. I just know that he's been around for a while. We've got people checking into it, but the going's been slow."     A while, huh? I raised an eyebrow at that, but remained silent. And he had people checking into it? Who? Did he just run around with people in his pocket that he could pull out at will and send off on random errands? I sighed, shaking my head. It wouldn't do me any good to press further, despite my rampaging curiosity. Instead, I turned back to Heero with what I was hoping were wide, pleading eyes. "So, tell us the rest about why Ellinea is here."     Chuckling, Heero poked me on the tip of the nose before subsiding back into his corner of the couch. "All right, my impatient one." Impatient one? Well, at least he hadn't called me his _little_ one so far. "It seems that Ellinea had come into our world searching for a new power source. Anita has suspicions that it may have been Ellinea that was after Quatre's mother so long ago, but she can't be sure. In any case, she somehow designated you, Duo, as the person who will provide her with this new power source."     "Me?" I hooked a finger at my chest in disbelief, eyes wide. "I might turn into a big, black cat, but how does that make me any different from the rest of you? Forgive my phrasing, but it's not like I'm the only freak among our little family. If she were to go after anyone, I would think it would be Quatre."     "You're just saying that 'cause I'm cute," Quatre said, beaming at me with his finger pressing dimples into his cheeks. Then his expression sobered, and he said, "Seriously, Duo, I have a feeling that there is a very big reason behind her decision to pursue you rather than one of us. Part of it could be because of your ties to the rest of us; you're probably the only one that shares such close ties with every other Gundam pilot. I mean, it's not like we aren't all friends, but the relationships are stronger through you to all of us than, say, mine with Heero or Wufei. I have a close relationship with Trowa, but part of what makes my relationship with him so close is you."     I scratched my head in utter bewilderment. "You lost me," I said.     That didn't seem like such an unusual thing to say, unfortunately.     "Basically, you're the thread that holds us all together," Wufei said with a grin, pressing his cheek against my arm. "Sure, Quatre's more level-headed than you, Trowa has better forethought, Heero's more responsible, and I'm more practical, but you're the only one who's able to counter-balance all of us. In a way, we feed off of you more than you feed off of us, and _that_ is part of why Ellinea picked you."     To say that I was at a loss for words would have been a vast understatement. I quite literally didn't know what I _could_ say. I was used to Trowa being the one to wax eloquent on me, not Wufei. More than that, I could sense that all four of my friends believed what Wufei had said. Personally, I'd never really thought of myself as the thread that held us all together. I'd always thought of myself as the laughing, light-hearted joker; you know, the comedy relief guy for when things got too serious.     "If Ellinea wants you for power, you can be sure that we'll fight her, Duo," Trowa said, speaking into the silence and startling me from my inner thoughts. He gave me a feral smile, revealing slightly prominent canines; someone had been spending a little too much time in wolf form. "It's taken me time to learn what a true pack is, but I've had a lot of help along the way—especially in the last two years. Catherine may be my only living blood relation, but I consider you my family nonetheless. I won't let some psychotic faerie bitch try and take you without giving her the fight of her life."     Beside him, Quatre giggled wickedly, his aqua eyes narrowed. "Too bad for Ellinea, she didn't realise just what kind of friends you had, Duo. Or what kind of relatives you and your friends had."     I thought on their words, my mind turning inward. I felt kind of warm and fuzzy from Trowa's words—for some reason, the guy just had that kind of effect on me—and I really appreciated what he'd said. And, yes, guys can feel warm and fuzzy too, without being gay. Seriously, all that "gay men are more in touch with their feelings" bullshit never made a whole lot of sense to me. Just because we don't squeal and bawl our eyes out like girls do… Oops, got off topic again.     At the same time, however, I wondered if Quatre was right. What if Ellinea was using me because she knew about my and their relatives? Surely she hadn't just picked me on sight alone. Besides, she'd known my name last night, which made me think that she had planned at least a little in advance.     Sighing, I shook my head. "Did we find out anything on the plasmababies?" I asked. I knew that had really been bothering Wufei when we'd been at the club last night, but I couldn't remember for the life of me if we'd ever come to a conclusion as to what was going on.     "Come to think of it, Asher mentioned something about that this morning," Heero said with a frown. "If I remember correctly, it had something to do with addicting humans to vampire blood. It was like having what Anita calls a human slave, a human who has multiple vampire bites and can be called by a particular vampire, but has no fringe benefits from the arrangement. These plasmababies, however, aren't bitten by the vampires, but seem to be hooked as if they had been bitten simply by becoming addicted to the vampire blood."     I felt one eyebrow rise and my lip curl. "Sounds real appetising," I said dryly.     "Speaking of appetising…" Trowa glanced down at his watch, brushing his bangs aside to reveal two laughing green eyes. "Duo, you've got less than a half hour before Anita shows up. If you want to look a little more presentable before you go to lunch, I suggest you get moving."     Squeaking, I jumped up from the couch, diving over Wufei and somehow managing to land on my feet. "Shiiit!" I wailed as I raced for my room. Behind me I could hear my friends dying of laughter.     I decided I'd plot my revenge later. 

* * *

I don't know how the hell I managed to do it, but I made myself presentable in twenty minutes. That was including the almost-mishap I had while trying to put one of my boots on. Let's just say that Quatre's tea set will never be the same. I was just double checking to make sure I had all the essentials while I waited for Anita to show up—fake ID card, stolen credit card courtesy of OZ, extra hair tie, pepper spray, handcuffs, lipstick, fish net tights… 

    Okay, so I really needed to clean my backpack out.     Hearing someone choking back laughter from just beyond my shoulder, I turned my head and looked up to find Heero peering into my bag along with me. His eyes were crinkled just a little at the corners, and he was biting his lip to keep from laughing outright in my face. I merely arched an eyebrow at his little display, wondering which of the interesting array of items had set him off.     Giving me a smile that showed what I was almost certain was a hint of fang—I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it last night, though—he said, "Can I see you in the fish net sometime?"     My eyes got really big for a moment. It was still a bit weird to hear stuff like that coming from Heero; lines like that were usually _mine_ to say. However, I wasn't going to look a gift invitation in the mouth…. "Maybe," I purred, lowering my lashes coyly.     Heero laughed again, fingers slowly trailing up my spine the same way his voice was inside my head. "On what condition?" he asked, fingers threading their way into my hair, turning me ever so subtly so that I was facing him.     Conditions… I was going to have to think about that one, and I had a feeling that Heero wasn't going to give me time to. I mean, I had one or two ideas that I'd been plotting for some time now, but I wasn't sure I wanted to use them. I was going to give it a try anyway, though. "Next time someone has to crossdress for a mission it's not gonna be m—Heero!"     I was seriously beginning to wonder about this new mission of Heero's. He still hadn't told me what it was exactly, and from what I'd seen it involved most everything that revolved around hedonism. Not to mention the fact that he had a serious fixation for my neck that was a bit disturbing after last night's revelations. Currently he was working his way up my throat, small, sharp nips alternating with apologetic tongue.     Groaning, I released my hold on the backpack, winding my arms around Heero, baring my throat even more. He paused once he reached my jaw line, and I felt his fingers tracing over the curve of my cheek. Slowly he tipped my face back down, hooded eyes staring into my own with such intensity that I almost froze in fear. However, when I looked a bit deeper, drowning in prussian blue, I saw a light burning there; a light of desire, of passion, of hunger…maybe of love.     I didn't care what it was; suddenly I wanted Heero's lips on mine and I wanted it last year. Not that Heero complained when I plastered myself against him, hands wandering eagerly as I nipped at the corners of his mouth, plunging my tongue inside that welcoming cavern. Heero didn't taste like anything from heaven; he tasted of everything dark, menacing, and lonely. Those had been fangs I'd seen earlier, and there was definitely an art to tongue-kissing someone with eyeteeth that prominent. I was determined to be a quick learner, though.     "Heero, quit molesting Duo in front of the guests," Quatre scolded as he walked past. "Besides, you're setting a bad example. Now Anita's going to think that sex is all that's on our minds."     I briefly wondered if Quatre had some sort of ESP that let him know when I was making out with Heero. He was two for two on interrupting me in the last two days.     As I stepped back from Heero with a guilty start—and I was willing to bet money that I was blushing—Anita said dryly, "When you've been around as long as I have, you learn that not only is sex the only thing on the male mind, "sex" covers a wide variety of things. Take Jean-Claude for example; he's got to be the only person I know that relates food flavours with various aspects of foreplay."     "Is _that_ where I get it from?" Heero murmured with a laugh. "I always wondered why hot fudge sundaes made me think of Duo and Death By Chocolate Cake made me think of Wufei." Laughing again and giving me a sly look, he said, "Guess I know why, now."     "A hot fudge sundae?" I repeated with a raised eyebrow.     Heero shrugged, grinning as he added, "With a Maraschino cherry on top."     All I could do was sigh and shake my head. Heero had one strange puppy for a father, and he had unfortunately inherited most if not all of that strangeness; at least I had a place to point fingers, now. Before we always joked that Doctor J. had dropped him on his head one too many times. I reached down and picked up my backpack again, slinging it over my shoulders. "If I make it through this lunch alive, I'll see everyone later," I said brightly. I wasn't being sarcastic either; I'm not usually all wishy-washy and doomsday-ish. I figured that it was about time I tried to return to normalcy—well, as normal as I ever was, anyway. Well, and I was also serious about not being sure if I was going to make it through lunch; I mean, I was going with Anita.     I stepped forward and gave Heero a quick kiss on the lips—I really did want to practise french kissing a dhampire some more, but it wouldn't do to be rude to Anita…or, at least that's what I kept telling myself.     He laughed at my disgruntled expression, tapping me on the end of the nose. "Don't forget to say good-bye to Wufei, _mon petit_," he told me. "He'll be very distraught if he finds out I got a good-bye kiss and he didn't."     Arching an eyebrow, I replied, "Distraught? Wufei only has two modes, Heero; calm and pissed. I'll take a wild guess and say that "distraught" falls into the "pissed" category?" When Heero smiled at me, I knew I had my answer. "Fine," I sighed, stalking off across the room.     I checked the kitchen first and found it empty. Trowa was the only one in the living room; he was still hiding behind his newspaper. I decided to check Wufei's room, and sure enough he was sprawled out across his bed as if he didn't have a care.     He looked almost as though he were asleep. His hair was loose, spread out across his pillow with a single stray lock lying on his cheek. His tanktop had ridden up, revealing a tempting hint of taut, bronze-coloured abdomen. I stepped further into the room, slowly moving closer to the bed. Wufei had one arm thrown over his head, the other off to the side. His eyelashes made thick, sooty crescents against his cheeks, and his lips were damp and slightly parted; all in all, it was a much too tempting vision to resist.     I reached down and gently touched a finger to his lips, tracing from corner to corner. He really was cute, lying there asleep, and I wasn't sure I wanted to wake him. But Heero's warning was still fresh in my head, and I knew Wufei well enough to know what kind of things happened when he was pissed—most of them involved explosives. I sat down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Wufei's shoulder. "Wufei, wake up."     Wufei smiled, sloe eyes opening with humour shining in them. "I was never asleep," he said.     "I should have known," I grumbled. Really, I should have; living with four other guerrilla terrorists for the past two years should have taught me something. At least, that's what you'd think.     "So, what's up, Shi-chan?" he asked, lacing his hands behind his head.     The movement caused his hair to fall in even more disarray, and I reached out without realizing it to smooth the ebony strands away from his face. Surprising myself a bit, I allowed my fingers to linger on his face, tracing over the contours of his cheek and jaw. "Anita's here," I said, pursing my lips as I thought about my semi-strange behaviour. I was going to have lots of questions at lunchtime I realised. Wufei and Heero were the subjects of many of them.     Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "Is something wrong, then?"     Other than the fact I was going to lunch with Anita…? Laughing, I shook my head. "I hope not! Personally, I think we have enough shit to deal with at the moment without something else going wrong. Heero thought I should come and say good-bye, though."     "Oh?" Sloe eyes narrowed in contemplation, pink tongue darting out to lick dry lips. "What did he mean by that?"     I knew damn well what Heero had meant by that, and I had a feeling that Wufei might too. But thinking about it was pointless; I'd tried thinking about it earlier and had gotten absolutely nowhere, other than even more confused. Instead, I gave in to the temptation of sexy, sleep-mussed Chinese boy and pressed my lips against his. I was going to keep the kiss close mouthed—part of me was still having problems relating 'best friend Wufei' with 'sexy, object of attraction Wufei'—but Wufei had other ideas. With almost industrious fixation he used lips, teeth, and tongue to pry my mouth open, and by that point I figured, Why the hell not? I gave in completely, learning the contours of Wufei's mouth, learning texture of his tongue, tasting him as I had Heero earlier. Wufei was dark promises, warmth, and seduction; in the back of my mind, I knew that, between the two of them, I was lost.     When we finally broke the kiss for air, I could see the smug satisfaction on Wufei's face. "See you later, Duo," he said, lips twitching as he fought not to smile.     My mind was still fighting for coherency; all I could do was nod in reply. "Uh, yeah," I murmured in vague agreement, pushing myself back into a sitting position. I somehow managed to get my feet underneath me without falling over, hitching my backpack back onto my shoulders. I paused in the doorway as I was leaving his room to look back at him over my shoulder, my lips pursed in thought, eyebrows drawn together. "Wufei, what's going on?" I asked softly, knowing that he'd know what I was referring to.     Sitting up slightly and giving me a small smile of reassurance, Wufei replied, "Nothing that wouldn't have gone on eventually, Duo."     Blinking, my eyes widened at that statement. "Are you saying that you and I… For how long?" I demanded, hands on my hips.     Laughing at my expression, Wufei flopped back down on his bed, messing the sheets and blankets up even further. "Long enough, Duo; long enough."     I mulled his answer over as I made my way back out to the living room. I'm not usually as blind as a bat when someone's attracted to me, so it was a bit disturbing to finally realise that Wufei had liked me as more than a friend for some time. Of course, that didn't disturb me as much as the idea that both Heero and Wufei wanted me and didn't seem to mind sharing in the least.     I was going to have a lot of adjusting to do.     Trowa had finally put his newspaper aside—probably due to the fact that Quatre had commandeered the use of his lap. Heero was talking with surprising animation to Anita, standing near the door. Maybe if he trusted her, then I should try as well… As usual, he was the first to spot me.     "So did you find Wufei?" he asked, grinning like the cat that'd gotten the cream and the canary.     So I decided to grin right back; the bastard seemed to know already, so I might as well play it up. "As a matter of fact, I did," I said, batting my eyelashes.     Anita frowned at us, tapping her foot. "Okay, enough with the hormonal frenzy shit. We're supposed to meet Shinta in half an hour, Duo, and it's at least a twenty-minute drive to the restaurant. If you're ready to go, then let's get going."     Absently I closed my jaw, blinking my eyes like an owl. Damn but Anita reminded me of Sister Helen when she did that. Well, the later part of her statement did, anyway.     "All right," I said as meekly as possible. Hell, the woman was fucking _necromancer_; I wasn't going to piss her off without due cause. And right now, I didn't have any due cause that I could think of. I reminded myself, kind of like a Buddhist sutra repeating over and over again in my head, that I was going to try and give her a chance to prove herself stable and trustworthy.     "Good," Anita said, gifting me with a smile. She led the way to the door, motioning me to exit before her; I kind of got the feeling that she didn't like being treated like most people thought a girl should be treated.     I got into the passenger side of the car with a small hint of trepidation. I knew that I should probably trust Anita, but some of my old habits were just too ingrained and they warned me that I was being to complacent in doing all this. I felt like I was having a miniature war go on inside my head over whether I was doing the right thing or not.     "Ready, Duo?" Anita asked, giving me an unreadable look with eyes so dark brown they were almost black.     "For what?" I asked. I had a feeling that she wasn't just referring to our lunch meeting with Shinta.     She started the engine, and over the roar I could hear the murmured words, "For the beginning of how the rest of your life will be."     For some reason, I was _not_ reassured by those words. Not reassured at all. 

* * *

Anita had called the place a restaurant, but it was more like a family-style diner. We managed to get there about five minutes ahead of schedule, much to Anita's relief. She had the waitress take us to a booth in the back, and I was a bit shocked as I realised that she'd picked a perfect place to sit. We had views of all the entrances and exits, we were away from any of the major windows, and there were plenty of places to duck for cover if need be. I might have picked that spot because I was a terrorist wanted by several different factions of various governments; I wondered why Anita had picked that spot though. 

    Something of my train of thought must have shown in my face, because when we sat down Anita gave me a humourless smile and said, "Okay, ask."     Slipping my backpack off, I glanced around to makes sure that we weren't being listened to. "Why did you choose to sit here?" I asked softly.     Shrugging, Anita said, "I didn't make it this long alive without learning a thing or three. Back before Brewster's Law went into effect, I was the vampire executioner for a tri-state area. I was also a member of the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team; I hung out with cops as well as monsters. I had people trying to kill me right and left for one reason or another. And I didn't always have a master vampire and alpha werewolf to bail me out of trouble."     Bracing my chin on my hands, I asked, "How _did_ you end up with those two?"     Laughing, Anita countered with, "How did you end up with a dragon master and a dhampire?"     "Blind, deaf, dumb luck," I muttered, ignoring the dragon master part of her comment. Yeah, I still wasn't exactly sure what the hell Wufei was, but I knew it had something to do with a demon named Shenlong. I figured that he and I could have a nice long discussion on holy dragons later, though.     At that point, the waitress returned and asked if she could take our order. Anita ordered a Diet Coke and foot long submarine sandwich, and looked as if she were having an argument with someone momentarily as she tried to decide if she wanted turkey breast or steak. After a moment, she swore and ordered it with steak, muttering something about at least getting her Diet Coke.     Amused and wondering just what was going on in her head, I ordered the good old American affair of a hamburger and Pepsi and waited for the waitress to depart.     "Jean-Claude was arguing with me over what I should eat," she said in explanation once the waitress had left. The look of disgust on her face made it seem as though it were a common occurrence. "He can be _such_ a pushy bastard."     Pushy, manipulative…Heero had so much in common with his dad it was scary. "So what's this Shinta guy like?" I asked, changing the subject from significant others.     The waitress returned with our drinks, and I waited as patiently as possible for Anita to take a sip from hers before she answered. "Shinta's a bit different from other people." Leaning over slightly, she said softly, "Don't mind him if he does a little bit of narrow-eyed staring. That's just how he is. And if he seems a little vacant and out of it occasionally…well, that's just how he is, too."     Staring at her wide-eyed in puzzlement, I asked, "Just what do you mean by—"     "Hush," she murmured, holding a hand up. "He just walked in and is heading this way."     I barely even noticed Shinta—if it was indeed Shinta—walking towards our table. All I caught was the vague flash of old, traditional Japanese attire before the person slid into the booth beside Anita.     Anita smiled, gesturing to the person—the _short_ person—beside her. "Duo, this is Shinta; Shinta, this is Duo."     Scratching my head in absolute confusion, I glanced across the table to the guy sitting in the seat opposite me. I fought the urge to shrink back in my chair and duck under the table; as it was, I had to settle for wide eyes and chattering teeth. Let's just say when Anita had described her friend, I hadn't pictured the guy sitting across from me.     Sure, he seemed nice enough—he had wide, slightly tip-tilted almond-shaped eyes the colour of a good cut of tanzanite, and thick, hip-length hair the colour of crimson pulled back in a messy, loose ponytail that nearly any female I knew would envy. His clothes had seen better days; both the grey kimono and blue hakama were beginning to inch past the point of 'threadbare.' Shinta's face was a study insomuch as it was both angular and sharp at the same time that it was soft and fine-boned. There was something in his eyes, though; something that sent shivers down my spine at regular intervals. The guy was clearly _not_ normal.     Whohoo! I don't think I'd met a single normal person in the last two days. That had to be a new record for me.     "Pleased to meet you," I said politely, extending my hand across the table. I liked to think I was getting better at the whole social thing. I hadn't said anything rude so far. Of course, it was only the first time I'd opened my mouth since Shinta's arrival. I was certain I'd have plenty of opportunities to open my mouth and insert my foot before the nighttime rolled around.     Tentatively, Shinta accepted my hand with a smile. "The pleasure is mine, de gozaru."     Did I mention that Shinta was, like, _way_ archaic? The guy had fought during the Bakumatsu no Douran on the side of the Ishin Shishi, according to Quatre. I was a little bit worried as to how Quatre had come across that little piece of information, so I hadn't bothered asking just how he had known that. Of course, Quatre hadn't bothered to say just what it was dear Shinta had been doing for the Ishin Shishi. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know that, either.     The waitress returned without lunches, setting them down in front of us. She asked Shinta if he'd like to order anything, but he politely declined, saying that he'd already eaten. Meanwhile, I was busy digging into my hamburger; true, I'd just eaten breakfast an hour before, but that didn't stop me from being hungry still. I was a growing teenage boy, after all. At least, I hoped I was still growing…     After a moment I realised that Shinta was staring at me. Self-consciously I licked at my lips, wiping my fingers on my napkin. "What?" I asked, glancing down to make sure I hadn't spilled anything on myself. Finding nothing and still not having had my question answered, I scowled at Shinta. "What is it?" I snapped.     Shinta turned to Anita with his head cocked slightly in confusion. "He looks familiar to me, Anita-dono. Have I met him before?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, completely oblivious to my anger.     Anita laughed a little nervously, glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Not really," she said after a moment, crossing her hands together on the table. "You see, Shinta, Duo shares your blood from way back. That's why he seems familiar to you."     I arched an eyebrow at that little tidbit. Shared blood? As in, Shinta and I were related? Ho-boy; for some reason, that prospect of sharing blood with Shinta frightened me. It wasn't like I didn't have enough problems to deal with; now I was related to yet another wacko.     How many more strange ghosts—monsters, demons, freaks of nature, etc.—were going to pop out of my closet before the week was over? I wondered.     "I see," Shinta murmured, nodding his head. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold pass through his eyes, but it was gone before I could do a double take. He smiled at me disarmingly, reminding me of a little girl I'd once seen on the streets of L-2. "Then I am doubly pleased to meet you, Duo-san."     Did I mention that that little girl could make a mean car bomb?     "Just Duo, please. Calling me 'Duo-san' makes me feel old," I said with a dismissing wave of my hand.     His head turning to face out the window, Shinta murmured, "Being old can be a curse. Feeling old can be twice as worse, though." When he turned back, I saw that his eyes were glassy.     A sliver of fear stabbed through me, and I glanced at Anita with my eyes wide. She was calm, completely unfazed by Shinta's weird behaviour. Catching my eye, she winked and gave a slight shake of her head. Apparently this was what she had warned me about. Apparently, my however many times great-grandfather waxed lyrical and looked like he was stoned when he was 'out of it.' I wondered how often he lost touch with reality. I was betting that it was frequent, for some reason.     Jewel-toned hair flew in an arc as Shinta shook his head, bringing a hand up to press briefly against his closed eyes. "Sorry," he said with a rueful smile, opening those bright, laughing orbs again. "I'm afraid I lose touch with reality sometimes, de gozaru."     I grinned easily and said, "That's okay, I do that sometimes too." I didn't add the fact that I was usually quite drunk when that happened. See? I _was_ being nice today.     Shinta nodded and turned to Anita with a curious expression. "Why is it that you wanted me to meet you here? Asher said last night that it was urgent. I would have figured it easier to meet at the club, but Asher insisted that it be here and at this time."     Anita smiled grimly, her dark eyes narrowed. "We have a problem in town. A _big_ problem. Jean-Claude figured that you would hear about it eventually and thought it would be best coming from us. Miburou is in town, and it appears that he's given his entire kiss to the control of a renegade Daoine Sidhe."     I found it utterly fascinating the way Shinta's eyes went wide, his face slack. I tried hard to see what was going on behind those blank, pretty eyes, tried to read what visions were flashing there. There was fear, anger, and hate lying just beneath the surface—I could smell the emotions on him, they were that strong. But there was something else there, something that I couldn't really put into words. I don't know if anyone could have put it into words. There was a longing, a hope, a hurt, a denial, a passion buried deep behind all those other predominant emotions. They made me wonder just what type of relationship Shinta had had with this "Miburou" in the past.     "Are you certain?" Shinta asked coldly, his eyes narrowing suddenly. I could definitely see the gold in his eyes now. He looked like a feral hunting cat ready to protect his territory from invasion.     Curls bounced wildly as Anita nodded her head. "Duo was the only one who saw him, but the physical description he gave matches Miburou perfectly. Duo, tell Shinta what the man looked like. The man you saw with Ellinea last night."     I made a face at the mention of the faerie-bitch's name, but nodded in agreement. "He was tall—_really_ tall, although I guess that's not saying much, since I'm short. He wore an outfit kind of like yours except that his kimono was a different shade of blue, with a blue haori that had jagged white patterns on the sleeves. His hair was thick and black, swept up into a high ponytail. He had long, thin bangs that slid into his eyes in about four or five different spots. And his eyes were thin, angular, and brilliant yellow."     Laughing softly, Shinta shook his head. "All these years… He agreed to leave me in peace here in Kobe the last time we met."     "But how long ago was that, Shinta?" Anita asked softly, her expression solemn. "Remember that time passes differently when you don't die or age."     Looking pensive, Shinta put a finger to his lips as he thought. "I don't know," he said after a moment with a shrug. "It's been at least four decades, maybe more. You know that my touch with reality comes and goes. The only thing I remember from the last time we met was that it was raining. He killed me that time."     To say that I was confused would have been putting it mildly. I was starting to put some things together on my own, but they were pretty incoherent. I'd gathered that Miburou, the guy from last night, was a Master vampire, and he'd lent his kiss out to Ellinea. But Miburou had a past with Shinta—which I was still completely confused about—and apparently they spent their years of immortality trying to kill each other. And, according to Shinta, he'd died at their last meeting. Which kind of had me wondering just what the guy was doing sitting across from me talking and breathing.     "Duo, is something wrong?" Anita asked, leaning across the table and touching my shoulder to stir me from my inner musings.     "Other than the fact I'm confused as hell, no," I responded with a grin. My cheekiness earned me a glare from her, but a brilliant peal of laughter from Shinta.     Anita sighed in exasperation, shaking her head. "Fine. What are you confused about?"     I pointed my finger accusingly at Shinta. "What the hell _is_ he?" I asked. I had to suppress a snicker as Shinta's eyes got very round.     "Oro?!" he exclaimed. "Sessha?!"     "Yeah, you," I reiterated, crossing my arms over my chest. "Jean-Claude's a master vamp, Richard's an alpha werewolf, and Anita's a necromancer. Ellinea, the psycho faerie chick who wants me for some reason, is an exile from the Seelie Court and her friend, Miburou, is a master vampire. Heero's a dhampire and Jean-Claude's son, Wufei has a pet demon that he somehow shares a body with, Trowa is a werewolf, Quatre's a witch-sorcerer guy, and I turn into a fucking panther. So what's _your_ story, morning glory?"     Heh, look at me: I'm a rhyming fool.     Shinta blinked at me, his eyes still very wide. I wondered briefly if I'd overloaded his scattered brain cells. "I'm…what I am," he said after a moment, looking at me with his eyes suddenly lucid. "I've been told I'm of the old Sidhe blood, those that came before the current Seelie Court Sidhe or the Unseelie Court Sidhe. All I know is that I can't truly die. I can be killed, but once my body heals, I awake again and live." He glanced away, and the light flashed off the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. "All I know is that I am alone."     Ouch. Now I felt bad for bringing it up. Unfortunately, I didn't know of any way to recover after that incident gracefully. "So…what do you do then?" I asked lamely. "I mean, you don't just sit around some room all day and do nothing, do you?"     Cocking his head, Shinta smiled slightly at me. "I guess we both share the talent for putting our feet in our mouths," he said, making me blush. He laughed at my expression, eyes crinkling in true humour at the corners; I decided then that, despite his eccentricities, I liked the guy. "I go through bouts of depression in which I do nothing but sit around a room and try to waste away, but I haven't done that in a couple years. Jean-Claude gave me a legitimate job about two years ago, and I absolutely love it. I think it's the first job I've had in a very, very long time that I enjoy every aspect of."     "Oh?" I asked curiously, propping my chin in my hands. "So what do you do?" I was still itching to ask him questions about Miburou, but I wasn't going to press my luck. I had already begun to realise that Shinta balanced very precariously along the line of sanity/insanity, and I didn't want him slipping over that insanity line when I was his target. I _still_ hadn't a clue as to what he had done for the Ishin Shishi, and I really didn't want to find out the hard way.     He smiled mischievously, eyes narrowed playfully. It was an expression I'd seen on my own face numerous times—guess I now knew where it came from. "You've heard of the Shiroi Karasu?" he asked.     My eyes went wide. "Un! It's only _the_ most popular nightclub in the New Kobe club district. I've heard that some people save for months to be able to go there for just one night, and even then you might not get in if the proprietor doesn't want you there."     "Shiroi Karasu is a club of Jean-Claude's," Anita said with a smile at my expression. "He opened it about six years ago as a trial venture, but the club didn't hit it big until about two years ago."     "That's when Jean-Claude made me a job offer," Shinta murmured. "I was just curious enough to give it a trial run—it wasn't something that I'd ever done before as a professional—and I enjoyed so much that I began working the club full time."     "But what do you do?" I asked again, knowing that was beginning to whine. But, dammit, I really wanted to know!     Giggling wickedly, Shinta leaned forward and whispered, "Sore wa…himitsu, de gozaru."     I could have screamed in frustration. I settled for clenching my jaw and my fists, glaring at him. If I ever had kids, they weren't ever going to learn that word. 'Secret' was _not_ going to be allowed in their vocabulary. At least Shinta was more humble when he said it, though; I guess that was an indirect point for him.     "Settle down," he said with a lazy wave of his hand. His mood swings were seriously beginning to annoy me more than they were frightening me. "If you really want to know, be at the club before ten tonight. Maybe we'll talk afterwards and see if there isn't something I can't do to help you with your problem." He slid from the booth, rising gracefully to his feet. I thought it was strange how he could make his scruffy clothes look as though they were being worn by a queen. He gave Anita a smile and a deep bow. "Thank you for inviting me to lunch, Anita-dono. I found it pleasant, de gozaru."     Anita nodded, though she seemed a little worried. "Will you be all right, Shinta?" she asked him quietly. "If there's anything that we can do…"     He shook his head, smile not wavering. "I'll be fine. The stakes are different this time. He brought a relative of mine into this; he should have known from before not to do that." And with that, Shinta turned and left the diner without giving either of us a backwards glance.     "Sooo, what do you think?" Anita asked once Shinta had disappeared out the door, poking me in the arm. She grinned at my annoyed expression, sipping from her Diet Coke.     "Why am I related to a bunch of psychos?" I asked acerbically. "Why are all my friends related to a bunch of psychos? What did I do to piss God off this much?!"     "God had nothing to do with it," Anita drawled, shoving a pickle into my mouth before I could continue my ranting. I scowled as I chewed the dill pickle, but decided to stay quiet. She still had six inches of a sub sandwich on her plate. I wasn't going to risk having _that_ shoved into my mouth.     Some days, I wondered what I was still doing alive. Then I would remember that God had to have someone to drive insane, and order would be restored to my universe.     I can be so pathetic.     After lunch, Anita insisted on taking me shopping. I looked at her as if she was nuts. "Forgive me for being blunt, but you don't strike me as a shopping type of person," I said.     "I'm not," Anita said with a grin. "I absolute hate shopping unless it's for artillery, but that's beside the point. The point is, I want to take you shopping and we are going to go shopping. _Understand_?"     I gulped at her intent expression, sitting back in my seat. "Yep, I understand," I said, nodding my head vehemently.     Smiling beatifically, she said, "Good. I would have hated for that to turn ugly. Now that that's settled, let's head for the mall."     "Which one?" I muttered darkly, slouching down dejectedly in my seat. I was going to go shopping with a nutcase. Granted, she wasn't as much of a nutcase as the rest of the psychos I'd met in my life, but she was potentially a lot more dangerous than the rest of those psychos.     For one thing, she was sitting only two feet away from me.     A maniacal gleam in her eyes as she pulled out into traffic, Anita told me with a wicked grin, "We're going to hit them all."     If I could have screamed, I would have; New Kobe had no less that three malls, one of which could have housed at least three entire Mobile Doll squadrons. I had a feeling that Anita would be unfazed by that as well, however. So, instead, I settled for another heart-rending sigh as I resigned myself to my fate. Life was not only unfair, it was fucked up.     How come I was the only one _not_ thrilled by this fact? 

* * *

I was decked out in the now-nicest set of clothes I owned, courtesy of Anita's credit card. I kept trying to tell her that I had a credit card paid for by OZ, but she just gave one of those 'don't argue with me if you value your life' looks and I decided to bite my tongue. Who was I to argue with her? I had to admit, though, that she did have good taste in clothes. She told me that it was all Jean-Claude's influence; back before she'd taken his marks willingly, her idea of dressing up was a non-black t-shirt, black jeans, and bloodless Nikes. 

    Her idea of dressing nice had come a looong way since then. I was now the proud owner of a nearly see-through long sleeved shirt in a lovely shade of vermilion. I've always had a thing for red—not that you could tell by my usual choice of everyday clothing. The shirt's sleeves were very baggy, so that they kind of draped across your arms with about six inches of extra material hanging loose, and it had a high Chinese tunic-style collar. There was some sort of metallic thread in the shirt that made it shimmer like liquid whenever you moved, but the material felt almost like silk. The leather pants I'd found were a lot like the ones Heero had worn the night before except that they were suede. And the boots…well, Anita sure knew how to shop for a short person. I might finally make one hundred and sixty-three centimetres with those boots on.     She dropped me back off at the safe house at around eight that night. We'd managed to spend the entire day since lunch doing nothing but shopping and talking. I think I'd done most of the talking, and though I'd tried to keep talking about myself to a minimum since I wasn't sure how much I could trust her, I think she probably knew as much about me as any of my friends. Hey, I'm not always good at keeping a low profile. I'm not stupid, I just get…carried away.     When I walked inside, the first thing I noticed was that it was quiet; way too quite for a place where five teenage boys lived, even if they were terrorists on the run. I prowled around the darkened house, turning on lights here and there. Eventually I came across a note that had been pinned to my door, written in Quatre's neat and tiny kana. 

_'Duo— We left to get dinner at about a quarter to eight. Don't expect us back any earlier than nine. And don't forget that we're supposed to be at Shiroi Karasu before ten. It wouldn't do to piss your many times great-grandfather off, now would it? Later! Quatre, et al.'_

    My eyes widened as I read that last sentence. Quatre had known and he hadn't said anything? That sneaky little neo-hippie punk bastard! So, I had at least an hour to myself. Well, I figured I'd just be selfish and indulge myself in a half-hour long shower, and then I'd get ready to go to the club.     With a cackle of delight I raced for the bathroom, carefully shedding my clothes before turning the water on as hot as I could stand it. One of my hidden hedonistic qualities was that I loved to take long showers—long, _hot_ showers. And now I had the perfect opportunity to drain the hot water heater of all its contents, and there was nothing that any of my friends could say about it.     Being devious was so much fun. 

Nine-fifteen rolled around, and Quatre and the others still weren't back. I was standing in the hall between the kitchen and our rooms, tapping my toes like a girl waiting for her prom date, when the phone rang, and I rushed to answer it. "Quatre?" 

    Quatre's tinkling laughter rang in my ear. "How'd you know?" he asked. "Never mind. I was just calling to let you know that we're going to be late. We'll just go ahead and meet you at the club. Oh, and Wufei says don't drive like a bat out of hell or he'll kill you himself. Anyway, see you in a bit!"     The phone clicked dead, and I slowly drew the receiver away from my ear so that I could stare at it in numb shock. Quatre had just hung up on me, and the only thing I'd been able to get out of the one-sided conversation was absolute confusion. I'd been in that state for pretty much the last two days and I didn't like it one bit. Nope, I didn't like it at all.     Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was now twenty after nine. I would have to hurry if I was going to make it across town and in the club before ten. Screw what Wufei wanted; I wanted to know what it was that Shinta did at the club and if I had to drive like a bat out of hell to get there on time, I would.     Not bothering to throw a coat on, I grabbed the keys to our jeep and raced out the door.     The sidewalks outside of Shiroi Karasu were literally crawling with people. If it hadn't been for the fact that Anita had said that Asher would meet me at the door, I wouldn't have had any idea how to get in. As it was I had to push and weave my way through the masses like a snake; I felt rather pleased with myself when some beefy jerk tried to elbow me out of the way and I managed to elbow him right back and face first into the side of the building. What could I say? I was finally beginning to feel more like my old self, and venting my frustrations on other people has always been one of my less-than-admirable traits.     Finally managing to make it to the front doors, I looked around for Asher, spotting him almost right off. The guy was a bit hard to miss; he kind of stood out like an angel that had dropped down from heaven to mingle with the mortals. I mean, I've never actually met someone with _gold_ hair before. That's what his hair looked like, the colour of a newly minted five yen piece. And his eyes, like Jean-Claude's, burned with a strange inner light that was frightening at the same time it was intriguing. The colour was close to the shade of Dorothy Catalonia's, but much, much bluer.     Pushing away from the wall he was leaning against, he moved forward until he was standing just in front of me. I had to look up—_really_ look up—just so that I could be looking at his face instead of his chest. That seemed to amuse Asher immensely; he started to laugh as soon as he realised how much I had to crane my neck.     "Sorry," he apologised, still smiling in amusement as he took a small step back. "You think I'd know by now not to do that."     "And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked defensively, arching an eyebrow.     "Nothing, nothing," he said with a wave of his hand. "It's just that I've known Anita for a very long time now, and she is only slightly taller than yourself. I meant no slight," he added, eyes shining at my disgruntled expression.     I decided at that moment that vampires as a race must come with strange senses of humour. There was just no other explanation for the fact that I seemed to amuse every vampire I'd met thus far, and I would no doubt continue to do so for as long as I lived—however long _that_ was. I still hadn't gotten an answer on why I wouldn't have to worry about turning old and grey, and I wasn't so sure I wanted one now.     "Have my friends shown up?" I asked, allowing Asher to lead me into the club. Immediately off to the right was a small counter where a pair of girls sat smiling at the customers that came through. They looked like identical twins and were dressed in identical outfits; I wondered if Jean-Claude had been raiding someone's Nyan-Nyan source, somewhere, since that was what the two girls reminded me of.     "Not that I know of," Asher replied, smiling politely at the two girls. "Are you wearing a cross tonight?" he asked, arching a golden eyebrow.     Shaking my head, I said, "Actually, I think I left my cross with the last cross check-in girl."     Asher snickered at me behind his hand, and I heard him say something about my having blacked out the night before. Raising both eyebrows and glaring up at him, I asked, "Do you want to trade places? You're welcome to my life for a whole twenty-four hours, if you'd like."     Shaking his head, Asher said, "_Non, non, mon petit_. I have enough problems to deal with as it is. Returning to the life of a teen would be pure hell."     I had to agree with him on that one—the part about being a teenager being pure hell, that is.     "Jean-Claude gave you his table up at the front of the stage," Asher told me after a moment, leading me through the tables and chairs that had been set up in front of an elaborate stage. I sat down when we reached the table, stretching my legs out in front of me and lacing my arms behind my head as he continued. "When your friends show up—"     "Asher-oneesan!" one of the check-in girls carolled, waving at him as she ran down the aisle. "Asher-oneesan, there's a message here for you."     Asher rolled his eyes at the girl's "oneesan" comment and stepped over to her. The girl beamed brightly, handing him a slip of paper and stepping back, her arms behind her back as she rocked back and forth, waiting. Asher grimaced after reading the note, handing it back to her with a sigh. She bowed to both of us before taking off back up the aisle.     "That was from Anita," he said as he stepped back over to my side. "Your friends called to say that they're not going to make it on time."     Crossing my arms over my chest, I scowled in disbelief. I had been ditched by not one, not two, not three, but _all_ of my friends. I was in the middle of one of the largest clubs in New Kobe, sitting by myself at a table at the front of the stage, courtesy of Jean-Claude. I glanced up at the clock on the wall, noting that it was nearly ten. Well, at least Shinta should be making his appearance soon and some of my curiosity would be appeased. However, I was going to have some serious words with my friends whenever they did decide to put in an appearance.     "It's okay, Asher," I said, giving him a wry smile. "I came to see Shinta, anyway."     Smiling, Asher nodded. "You'll get to see Shinta, _mon ami_. If the others show up before the show is done I'll make sure to send them here."     "Thanks, Asher," I murmured, glancing around me with interest. There were so many different people in the club, some wearing expensive business suits and evening gowns, others wearing almost nothing. Shiroi Karasu attracted an interesting crowd, that was for sure.     "Pardon my intrusion."     Whirling in surprise, I nearly fell out of my chair. I raked hair out of my eyes with an irritated scowl, glancing up at the man—the very tall man—that had startled me. His long black hair was swept completely back from his face, giving him a pleasantly open appearance. He smiled in apology, inclining his head. "I didn't mean to startle you," he murmured, his eyes shadowed so that I couldn't tell if he was amused or not.     I shook my head. "No, no, that's okay," I said with a grin. "I was a little lost in my own world, that's all." Ch', the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I shared a _lot_ of traits with Shinta. I wasn't so sure that that was a good thing.     "I know someone like that," he responded quietly. Then he grimaced, shoving his hands deeper into his long coat. "I really hate to bother you, but I'm afraid they booked more seatings than there are seats. The man at the door saw that you were at your table by yourself and told my that I might ask if I could join you."     Blinking, I said, "Sure, why not? My friends ditched me, so I was just going to sit here by myself. Feel free to join me." Well, at least I would have someone to talk to until the show started. And the guy seemed likable enough, not to mention the fact that he wasn't sore on the eyes.     Inclining his head again in a slight bow, he said, "I thank you." He removed his trenchcoat, revealing a clean-cut, expensive-looking business suit. "My name is Saitou, by the way: Saitou Hajime."     "Duo Maxwell," I said, extending a hand to him. He accepted without hesitation, enclosing my hand in his much larger one. I felt a strange sort of tingle run through me at the contact, different from the feeling I got when the glamour kicked it. It made me glance at Saitou curiously; this was a club of Jean-Claude's, so I was wondering if he was human. My bets were on the big 'N' 'O.'     "A pleasure, Duo," Saitou said softly. He collapsed his long frame gracefully into the chair beside me, crossing his ankles. "Is this your first time to Shiroi Karasu?" he asked me, head tipped slightly in my direction. We were both facing the stage as we waited for the show to begin.     "Yeah," I said, wrinkling my nose as the lights began to dim. "A friend invited me to come and watch the show tonight." Hey, saying 'friend' sounded a lot better than saying 'many times great-grandfather.' It also sounded a lot more plausible.     "Oh, I'm certain that you'll enjoy it," Saitou said with a chuckle, dark undertones lacing his voice and laugh that made me shudder.     "You've seen it before?" I asked quietly, glancing around the room. Nearly everyone was riveted on the stage, leaning forward in the chairs and across the tables as they strained for a better view.     Wicked laughter, again. "Let's just say that I'm one of the biggest fans of this particular show."     The lights dimmed completely to blackness. Stage lights came up as the curtains drew back, revealing an elaborate yet whimsical set. It was a fairytale-looking set up, which had me wondering just what kind of a show I was in for. The colours were mostly soft and warm, lots of pale blues and blush-hued reds. Glitter and sequins sparkled everywhere, and gauze-like wisps of fabric floated in the air as if waving in a breeze. It was hard to tell what the scene was supposed to be exactly, but that added to the intriguing quality of the whole idea.     As the actors—correction, _dancers_—came out and began their performance, I began to realise that I was witnessing something beyond even my wildest dreams. I'd never heard of a fairytale in which the highly erotic dances going on before me occurred. Everyone was fully clothed, but the clothing was artfully arranged, giving you a hint here, a peek there, making you wonder, making you want more. Their movements were sometimes sharp, sometimes jerky, but mostly fluid and seductive. I couldn't help thinking that Jean-Claude had found a beautiful cast of dancers for his show; graceful, fair of face, and utterly androgynous. Jewellery glittered and chimed, but it added to the ambiance rather than distracting from it.     "Shinta won't actually show up for about another twenty minutes," Saitou murmured from beside me, watching the performance through lidded eyes. "I assume that's who you're here for. That's who nearly everyone in this club is here for."     "What do you mean?" I asked, not tearing my eyes away from the stage. It was too fascinating for me _not_ to watch—which, I'm sure, is exactly what Jean-Claude had intended. At that point I had figured out that Shinta must be one of the dancers in the show, and while I had to admit that he was good-looking, I couldn't quite understand why Shinta would be everyone's reason for coming to the club.     Saitou chuckled darkly, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I noticed that his eyes, which were narrow and angular, seemed somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place why that was. "Everyone comes to see Shinta dance. He's the club's number one attraction."     "Is that why _you_ come?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. Yes, I am nosy. No, I don't care.     "But of course," he replied with a bow of his dark head. Glancing briefly at the stage before turning back to me, he said, "I've always had a fascination for watching Shinta."     Warning bells went off in my head. I peeled my eyes away from the stage long enough to hazard a look at him. His expression was bemused, far away, and his thin lips were pursed in thought. "Shinta has this…quality…about him that I've always found intriguing. Surely you've noticed it." He turned his attention back to me, arching a slender black eyebrow.     "When he is or isn't homicidal?" I asked dryly. Sure I'd noticed there was something about Shinta, something different from normal people, something different from _abnormal_ people. But I'd also noticed that he was, how should we put it delicately, completely out of touch with reality 22/7? _That_ was just a little frightening when you considered the fact that the guy couldn't die.     Saitou laughed again at my remark, a smile curving his lips. "Both facets! From the first moment we met I was drawn to him."     I sensed a story in his words, a story I wasn't sure I wanted to hear. But I had at least fifteen minutes before the main attraction hit the stage, so I figured that I might as well hear it. "So tell me about the Shinta you know," I said. The guy _was_ my only living relative, so it wouldn't hurt to learn a little bit more about him.     "Do you know why he is the way he is now?" Saitou queried, lacing his hands together in his lap and relaxing like some sort of large predator into his chair. Personally, I hadn't thought such a position was possible and could still be comfortable, but Saitou seemed perfectly at ease.     "Not really," I said with a shake of my head. By that point I'd already decided that Saitou wasn't human. I wasn't sure what it was that had made me reach that decision—after all, I had a lot of things to choose from—but I was dead certain of it now. No pun intended, really; I'd been hanging out with the wrong crowds recently, that's my only defence. With Saitou, though, it was almost as though he had this presence about him that simply screamed 'other.' "I know that he worked for the Ishin Shishi during the Bakumatsu no Douran. That's about it."     Sighing, Saitou unlaced his fingers and steepled his hands, glancing down at them. "Shinta was a hitokiri for the Ishin Shishi. He was their best, their brightest, and their strongest, but they used him the wrong way and burned him out early. He was disillusioned, felt lost and betrayed, and felt far older than his tender years. He left the Ishin Shishi without a word, disappearing for over ten years. Later, a bumbling little rurouni showed up in Edo, which had by that time been renamed Tokyo, and stumbled upon a place known as the Kamiya Dojo. He fell in love with the ojouchan that ran it, and after a few years of hardship trying to keep them apart, he married her. He settled down into married life almost as if he'd been born for it, content to live out the rest of his life with his friends and family around him.     "But Shinta was different, something that most people had known for a long time. And his kind of different was bound to attract attention. Some people had begun to notice that Shinta never seemed to age, but they passed it off with a shrug. His wife, however, had noticed it and begun to worry. She went to talk with an old woman living in the wilds above Tokyo, asking what she should do. She was told to take some of her husband's hair and bind it with horsehair and silk to a piece of iron, and spill her own blood onto it. She was then to cast it into a fire made from the branches of sakura trees. The poor girl had no idea what she was doing in reality. The old woman knew what Shinta was and knew exactly what she was having his wife do. The hag-appearance was merely a disguise; she was a kyuuketsuki, a vampire who had been around for many years and held a grudge against Shinta, for he had unwittingly slain many of her kin over the years.     "When Shinta's wife made the talisman and did as the old woman had told her to, it made Shinta fall deathly ill. He was rushed to a friend's clinic, and the doctor worked day and night to try and figure out what was wrong with him. Meanwhile, however, the old woman attacked the dojo. She pretended to seek entry to ask Shinta's wife how things had gone, and once she had entered the house, she struck. She killed Shinta's wife, their infant daughter, two members of the Oniwabanshuu who had come to visit and pay their respects, his wife's student, Shinta's friend who had once served in the Sekihoutai, and two little girls whose grandfather had worked for the dojo. She drained them of their blood and then proceeded to remove their heads from their bodies. Lastly, she set fire to the dojo, burning the dead so that there was no chance of them rising as vampires.     "With his wife's death, the talisman was no longer good. Shinta recovered rapidly, but by that time the news had reached the clinic: everyone at the dojo was dead. He was wild with grief when he heard, and after being subdued by several police, the doctor gave him an injection to make him sleep."     "Holy shit," I murmured, my eyes wide. I wasn't really looking at the stage anymore; Saitou's tale was a bit more interesting than the dancing, at the moment. Shinta had been an assassin for the Ishin Shishi, as well as had his whole family slaughtered by a vampire? No wonder his hold on reality was tenuous at best. I mean, it wasn't like I had the best of holds on reality either, not after the upbringing I had, but Shinta really took the cake.     "Indeed," Saitou agreed humourlessly. "However, the vampire wasn't done with Shinta. She had heard that there were still others he had cared for; the doctor who had been tending him, his toddler son, his old instructor whom was guarding the boy, and a man who had once gone by the name of Miburou."     "Miburou?!" I sat up straight, turning to stare at him in surprise. "Shinta was _friends_ with this Miburou guy? I was under the impression they hated each other." Guess you learned something new every day, ne?     "Appearances can be deceiving," he said with a small laugh. "Shinta shared a strange relationship with the man called Miburou. Miburou had been Shinsengumi to Shinta's Ishin Shishi back in the days of the Bakumatsu no Douran; they went back a long way. During those days, they eventually clashed swords and were forced to break off their dual before a winner was decided. Some people said back then that they were each other's only match in talent. Miburou was furious that the battle had been unresolved, and even more furious when Shinta disappeared. When he resurfaced ten years later, Miburou was working for the government police. He couldn't resist antagonising Shinta into a fight, however. It didn't take too much goading; Miburou had learned how to pull Shinta's strings. It was what Miburou had lived for, all those years that Shinta had been missing. All he had wanted to do was to fight the hitokiri side of Shinta again, to find out who was the strongest. And that was how their relationship remained throughout the next couple of years. Cool, seemingly without purpose. Deep down, however, both of them knew that if the other was to die, they would be without a true purpose in life anymore.     "Getting back to the story, the vampire knew that she had missed the doctor, the son, the teacher, and Miburou. It was impossible for her to find the instructor and the boy; the instructor was from an ancient and powerful clan of nearly immortal onmyouji and had taken Shinta's son into the protection of his clan's hidden enclave. It wasn't very hard for her to kill the doctor; she was _very_ good at playing the part of the ailing old woman. As she had done before, she burned the body so the doctor could not rise as a vampire.     "But getting Miburou was a bit harder. For one thing, he was out of town at the time. For another, his wife was home, and she was a sly woman. She knew right away that something wasn't right with the old woman, and so she denied entrance to the vampire. But late that night, before the body of the dead doctor had been discovered, the vampire managed to call to one of Miburou's children. The child invited the vampire in and promptly lost his life, as did his two sisters. The vampire tortured the wife before she killed her."     There were only about five minutes before Shinta would put in an appearance, and I was beginning to get antsy. Not because the story was boring, but because I wanted to know how it ended. It was absolutely amazing that there were all these other species out there, all these different types of people. It was even more amazing that they'd been around for so long. To think that Shinta could have not known what he was, not known what his teacher was, was almost unbelievable. "So what happened when Miburou got home?" I was betting that he'd been just _slightly_ pissed. Just slightly, you know.     Shrugging, Saitou said, "Not much. Miburou lived long enough to be fully aware of what had happened to his family. The vampire was still there, waiting for him to return, and wasted no time in killing him as well. However, she did something a little different when she killed Miburou; she drained him to the point of death and carried his body to her home in the wilds, waited for him to rise three nights later, and then made him drink her own blood. You see, she had realised the one thing that would make Shinta's suffering even sweeter: finding that Miburou was dead, and yet lived as her puppet, would make Shinta writhe inside with anger that he could never truly find out who was stronger. Miburou was _dead_ and no longer had a will that was truly all his own."     "Come on, there's got to be more," I said, leaning over the arm of my chair.     Saitou smiled grimly, glancing at me. "When Miburou awoke from his death, and after his hunger was assuaged by the farm tenants the hag had brought to him, he blamed Shinta for the deaths that had occurred. After all, the hag all but ruled his consciousness at that point, and it was easy for her to turn his thoughts in that direction. He was still disoriented from waking after death, and his memories of his life were hazy at best. Shinta, when he awoke from his drug-induced stupor and realised what happened, blamed himself for the deaths as well. That's what began the life and death cycle they've continued for hundreds of years."     "So who died that first time?" I asked softly, gaze drifting back to the stage. The ambiance had changed, so I knew something was going to happen, but I was still deeply interested in Saitou's story.     Softly—so softly that I barely caught it even though the music was fading to almost silence, and I was certain I couldn't have heard him right—he said, "He did. And it was like a taste of heaven before the light died."     I'm not much of a "music person." I like music, I like to dance, but that's about as far as it goes. I hadn't really paid all that much attention to the music that had been playing throughout the first part of the show, but I knew it had been different from that that began playing a moment after Saitou quit speaking. It was trance music—_pure_, synthesised progressive trance, without rock or alternative influences—and the new ambiance of dry ice and soft, throbbing lighting fit it perfectly. The music grabbed me instantly, pulsing within my veins like something primal.     Those psychologists I've had to see off and on throughout my life had the right idea when they said that rock was evil because it was primitive, sexual; personally, I agree, but I don't care. Trace is kind of the same way, deep, throbbing beats with pulsing, changing rhythms intertwined throughout it. I don't really think of it as sexual, more like sensual. I _loved_ trance, because it was one of the best varieties of music for dancing to, for swaying seductively, wrapping your arms around yourself, touching yourself, and not having to feel ashamed because the music tells you not to be.     I'd been so absorbed by the music that I almost didn't notice the figure rising up out of the fog of dry ice. Slender, petite, ethereal, and utterly graceful, Shinta glided through the fog like the otherworldly being he was. Like the other dancers, his clothing was intended to be concealing as well as revealing, but his costume stayed true to his native heritage. The yukata was almost gauzy, shimmering iridescently under the lighting. It was a pale lavender patterned with plum branches, the obi the same shade as the plum blossoms, and it had most definitely been made for him. Silver glittered at his wrists and ankles as he writhed and twisted with the music, the sweet chime of jewellery a perfect counter.     You could tell that Shinta lived for the music, for the dance. His hair was mostly pinned up in an ornate yet simple-looking design, small tendril's framing his angular face. His face was flushed, his eyes closed, but his expression was utterly euphoric. He moved with inhuman grace, with uncommon ease in winding figures, hands moving in a dazzling pattern as if he were casting a spell. Dragging my gaze away just long enough to glance around the room, I realised that, perhaps, he was. Everyone in the room was utterly enthralled and entranced, watching the stage almost unblinkingly. I could even see some people who were at the point of falling out of their chairs as they tried to inch closer to the stage.     Time seemed to cease its passage; I had no idea how long Shinta's movements held us captive for, and I wasn't so certain that I really cared. When the first piece of music ended, it was as though there was some unspoken agreement between the crowd and him; no one rose to their feet and applauded, though I knew we all felt as though we should.     "Look at the kind of power he has," Saitou murmured, not tearing his eyes from Shinta's form. Shinta had bowed his head and turned slightly away from the audience. "His ability to snare the attention of hundreds has nothing to do with magic. It's just who he is. He could have anyone, anything he wanted, but there is only one thing that he desires."     I wanted to ask what that one thing was, and how Saitou could possibly know, but the next piece began, ending my desire to question and anything else Saitou might have said. I'd thought Shinta had poured emotion into the last piece he'd danced to, but it was nothing compared what he did with the new piece. He danced as if his life depended on it—and maybe it did. In the strange out-of-touch realm he lived in, dance might be all he had to live for. His movements were full of barely contained energy, but they weren't frenzied or hurried.     Again I was reminded of a hunting cat stalking prey as he drew closer to the edge of the stage, smiling wickedly at the audience. 'Let me show you' the lyrics said, and he was doing just that. Just watching him move, it was easy to see how he could have been one of the strongest swordsmen alive. Hell, if you put a sword in his hand at that moment, I was sure he'd still be one of the strongest swordsmen alive. Was this dance any different from the one he had danced before? Maybe no one was physically being cut down, but how many people would leave the club tonight with their hearts and souls completely intact?     This dance…this was part of the passion I'd sensed earlier in him, this need to dance. Shinta was pure sensuality, pure passion, pure desire incarnate as he danced. I had a feeling that the intense emotions he poured into his display were also tied in with a desire to kill, something that was simply a part of him—and I was a little worried that that prospect didn't bother me as much as it should.     "Tease," Saitou growled as Shinta's movements brought him closer, yukata sleeve brushing the edge of the stage, his hand darting out in a graceful, slithering movement past it before its owner pulled it back into the sanctity of the stage.     Nodding my head in agreement, I continued to stare wordlessly. How could Shinta manage to convey so many things in his dancing: threats, promises, possibilities, and eternity were all there in his actions. Had anyone other than his deceased wife ever dared to reach out and take what those seductive hands promised? Had his wife even _known_ about this side of him? For some reason, I doubted so. Maybe she had known about his past, but I don't think she could have known what kind of creature she had briefly held in her arms. If she had, she never would have doubted him, never would have gone to that vampire that lived in the Tokyo wilds—and I might not be where I was at that moment.     I almost didn't notice what happened next; Saitou, whatever he was, was good. He held the entire room in the grip of his mind, and they were oblivious. I almost was too; I was guessing the only thing that saved me was my tie to Heero and Wufei—possibly my tie to Shinta, as well.     Saitou stood in a single fluid movement, hand darting out and snatching up Shinta's. Shinta stilled in shock, turning to confront him. His pale lavender eyes went wide, his mouth gaping open in surprise. "You…"     Smiling wolfishly, Saitou leaned in closer. Later I would think it funny how Saitou was still taller than Shinta even though Shinta stood on a stage a foot above the floor. "Hisashiburi, ahou," he said with a low laugh.     Shinta's eyes went hard, gold flashing through them. He opened his mouth to snarl a retort, and I think that I was as surprised as he was by what happened next; Saitou leaned in and kissed him. Not just any old kiss, mind you. No, this wasn't a chaste peck on the lips by any means. Saitou fisted one hand in Shinta's hair and locked his other arm around Shinta's back, making escape difficult—more like impossible.     I couldn't help noticing that Shinta didn't seem to be trying to escape all that hard, though. His eyes had been wide in shock at first, but now they were closed as if in resignation. As I watched in dismay, his slender arms moved to wrap around Saitou's neck. Nooo, no chasteness there. They were lip locked like they meant it—and utterly oblivious, I might add. They were kissing as if they were starving or dying; maybe both, since one of them growled while the other groaned when they finally broke for air.     Tanzanite eyes were wide and confused as Shinta stumbled back, drawing his arms around himself. "Why are you here?" he asked miserably. I could sense the hurt behind his words; the anger had faded behind its weight.     Saitou shrugged, tipping his head to the side. The band that had contained his long black hair had been broken—probably by Shinta—and his hair floated around his decidedly wolfish countenance like an ebony curtain. It was then, when slim tendrils slipped in front of his golden eyes, that I realised who Saitou was: he was Miburou, the man who had been with the fey bitch the night before. "Why do I ever come to see you, Kenshin? Does anyone really know?"     Shaking his head, Shinta seemed to draw in on himself even more. "You promised you'd leave me alone," he whispered, head bowing.     "A promise made eighty-seven years ago in grief when I realized that I'd killed you again!" Saitou snapped, eyes narrowing. "A promise that you dragged out of me, knowing how much it would hurt for me to keep it. Hell, Kenshin, New Kobe wasn't even all that new yet."     Suddenly, it was as if something inside Shinta had snapped. His eyes narrowed, expression going flat as he stood up straighter. Tipping his head to the side, he said, "So, was allying yourself with the Sidhe bitch an act of vengeance?"     His voice was cold, almost completely devoid of emotion. This was the side of him that could kill without regret, without remorse; this was the side that Miburou had first fallen for. "That boy that she set her sights on has many powerful friends."     Again, Saitou merely shrugged, seeming nonplussed. "I know." He didn't even look at me; I wasn't sure if he didn't know that I was still cognizant, or if he was simply ignoring me.     "Did you know that she cast a glamour on him, one that could kill him?" Shinta continued, slowly drifting forward. His grace and attitude reminded me of a snake at that moment. And I was betting that Shinta would be a very poisonous snake should he choose to strike.     "No," Saitou said, a frown appearing on his face. "Ellinea mentioned nothing of a glamour."     Shinta stopped when he was but inches away from Saitou once again. "Then, I take it, you also didn't know that he is a descendent of mine. I like him, ookami; I won't let her have him without a fight."     A sharp hiss escaped Saitou's lips. He glanced back at me in surprise. I just shrugged, my expression bland. What could I say? I was beginning to find out I had weird relationships with weird people. It was also beginning to seem rather commonplace to me. "I didn't know that he was related to you," he said softly, fists clenching. "I knew that he was the boy Ellinea was hoping to use to further her plans, but I didn't know that he was yours."     Hmmm, I wondered, my eyes narrowing. Was the whole 'relations' thing a sore spot back from when they'd died? Anou, when Saitou had died and Kenshin had found out he couldn't die? Shinigami-sama, that could get confusing!     Confusion returned to Shinta's face, making him seem delicate in his bewilderment. "Then why did you come here, Saitou?" he asked. "If it wasn't about revenge…"     Saitou laughed softly, a gentleness that I'd never seen before—and would never have expected to see—coming to his eyes. "Why would I want revenge, Kenshin? You're the one who always dies." Blushing, Shinta looked away, fists clenched. Saitou's hand reached up, gently turning Shinta's face back to him. "I hate you for goading me into killing you, for being able to run away to your own reality," he said softly. "But even that first death wasn't about revenge. I was angry, I was lost, and, as usual, you were right there. You've always been the only person I've felt safe taking my emotions out on. You always come back. Not to mention the fact that you always seemed to have the world's worst—or best, depending upon how you look at it—timing."     Blushing slightly at the 'timing' comment, Shinta tried to look away. His voice was harsh, as if laced with painful emotions and tears. "Why?"     "I don't know." Saitou's thumb brushed Shinta's lips. "Why do you cry when you die?"     Shinta's eyes closed briefly. "I can't remember," he said tremulously. "I think it's because I'm sad."     "Sad?" A slender black eyebrow arched. "Why are you sad?"     A single tear slipped from the closed eyes, tracking down a pale, golden cheek. Shinta didn't even seem to notice, but Saitou did. His fingers touched the tear almost reverently, bringing the crystalline drop to his own lips. "Because death is lonely," Shinta whispered at last, opening his eyes. They shimmered with the rest of his unshed tears, making his eyes look like jewels in the lighting.     Saitou smiled at that. "So quit dying," he stated, slipping his hands into his pockets.     Shaking his head, Shinta closed his eyes and said, "It's not that easy, Saitou. It's not a cycle I can break from. It's my destiny to die, over and over again. Just as it's my destiny to be killed by _you_, over and over again."     Snorting, Saitou rasped, "Is that you what you really think? You think that we've been tied together for over four hundred years simply for me to follow you around with the express purpose of killing you? Except for the first time, I have never set out with the intent of killing you. But you, as usual, goad me over the edge. You know how to push my buttons the same way that I do yours. In the end, however, you always give up. You _let_ me kill you. It's time to quit running away, Kenshin. You think that you're the only one who cries when you die?"     Eyes fluttering open, Shinta stammered, "W-what do y-you mean?"     A grim smile made its way to Saitou's harsh countenance. "You think I enjoy killing you, Kenshin? The only person that ever truly understood my nature? You know it was never the killing I sought in a fight, it was the dominance. Every time you died it was another chance blown, another time that there was a possibility for clarifications to be made got screwed up. The memories you retained after death always painted me as awful—don't bother denying it. This last time that I killed you, I wanted nothing more than to walk out in the morning sun because I _knew_ that you would wake up hating me completely once again."     "No!" Shinta shook his head sharply in denial, reaching out unconsciously for Saitou's hands.     I couldn't help but smile behind my hands at the two of them. Sure, Saitou had helped to get me glamourised by a faerie even more psychotic than Lady Une, but he was apparently enamoured of my many times great-grandfather. True, he'd apparently _killed_ said many times great-grandfather a few times, but it sounded to me like Shinta had asked for it.     My logic was beginning to sound reeeally fucked up.     But just why the hell did Saitou keep calling him 'Kenshin'? Shinta, Kenshin. Shinta, Kenshin. I wasn't seeing a relation there. I didn't think it was a pet name—maybe it was just me, but Saitou didn't seem like the type to go in for that kind of thing.     "It's true," Shinta said, turning his head away as if he were ashamed or embarrassed. "Every time I awoke after dying, all I remembered was the bad." He gave Saitou a weak smile. "I've never exactly been known for my attention span."     Saitou snorted. "_That's_ for sure, ahou."     "Oro?!" Shinta squawked indignantly, stomping his foot like a girl in pique.     Chuckling at his expression, Saitou drew him forward and into his arms again. "I'll explain everything that's going on tomorrow, but not before. If I do, I risk injury to the plasmababies, not to mention injury to your relation should Ellinea discover things prematurely. Tell Jean-Claude to keep his hounds off my trail until tomorrow night, please. I promise I'll explain things then."     "Tomorrow?" Shinta shook his head, gazing up at Saitou in confusion. "Saitou, what are you involved in?"     Smiling grimly again, he replied, "Something that may get us all killed."     Sighing, Shinta nodded in assent. "All right, I'll talk to Jean-Claude." His eyes wide, lips pressed together, he added, "I'm trusting you, ookami."     "Thank you, Kenshin," Saitou murmured as he bowed his head towards Shinta.     When they kissed for the last time, I looked away. It wasn't just because I'm not big into voyeurism—well, not _usually_, anyway—it was because I felt like it was something special. Yeah, I know that probably sounds corny, but it's true. With Shinta's seeming split-personality/reality problems, I had to wonder just how much of his life was missing from him. It seemed to me that Saitou cared about him an awful lot, and had for some time. Besides, they _deserved_ a small moment of privacy, considering the fact that I was the only one really watching them. The rest of the audience was still ensnared by Saitou's mind—a fact that I found kind of amazing. He had to be pretty strong if he could hold so many minds for so long. Then again, Heero _had_ told me that morning that even the Council feared Saitou's talents, so it shouldn't be any big surprise that he could do what he was doing.     I was startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to find Saitou staring down at me with a thoughtful expression. I smiled tentatively, wondering if he was being friendly or if he was about to pull a big, bad vamp trick on me.     "You're a little too much like him for your own good," Saitou said at last, smiling as he shook his head. "I think that if you and he were locked up in a monastery somewhere, the world would only have half the problems it does."     Arching an eyebrow, I asked dryly, "Isn't that a lot of blame to put on two people?"     Snorting, he replied, "Not really. With the kind of people you attract, Duo, I'm surprised this hasn't happened to you before now."     Thinking about that for a moment, I kind of had to agree with him. "Part of it probably had to do with the fact that I spent a few years in a church orphanage," I said at last.     Saitou nodded in agreement. "That would probably do it. For some reason, there's just something about Christian churches that's a big turn-off for the Shadowkind." He smiled, glancing briefly at Shinta who was lost in thought. "Take care of him."     He didn't even have to ask; Shinta simply inspired familial instincts that I hadn't known I had. "Of course."     At my answer, he made his way towards the darkened back of the club, disappearing into the shadows completely. After a moment, the crowd began to shake their heads as if waking up, murmuring amongst themselves. Shinta had a smile on his face and was bowing rather prettily to the crowd as if he'd just finished his dance. People slowly rose to their feet, clapping and catcalling, some asking for an encore. I knew that Shinta, even if he had wanted to, didn't have it in him after the encounter with Saitou. Instead, my immortal relative waved to the crowd, threw a small number of kisses and coy winks, and then disappeared back into the curtains.     I stood up, moving through the tables back towards the front of the club. Halfway there, I ran into Asher and Jason, neither of whom looked very happy. "_Mon chere_ sent us to retrieve you," Asher said, glancing around at the crowd. "Jason will take you to the others; I'm going to need to run crowd control." I nodded and watched him walk past.     "Asher is the only one other than Jean-Claude that can clean up after Miburou," Jason said as he led me past the bar and behind a partitioned off area near the back. He opened an innocuous-looking door, which led to a flight of stairs. "And since Jean-Claude is on the phone with an extremely pissed off Traveler, Asher's the one that gets to deal with the patrons."     "So why's the Traveler pissed?" I asked curiously. From what I understood, the Council members mostly stayed at their enclave in Europe, so I was a little confused as to why they would care about what was going on here.     "They found out about Ellinea from the very irate Seelie Court retainers that came to petition them for help. Apparently the power hungry bitch is wanted by her people dead or alive; they seem to be leaning heavily towards the 'dead' side. By the way, Anita told me to let you know that calling Ellinea 'faerie' is insulting to her. The Sidhe prefer to be referred to as 'fey.'"     Grinning, I couldn't help by say, "Then it's a good thing I call her the psycho faerie chick. I'd hate to think I was giving her a complement."     Jason chuckled, swiping hair out of his eyes as we walked down the stairs. I was grateful for the conventional lighting; I still hadn't quite gotten over yesterday's torch-lit walk. "Anita also managed to find some old videos of you as a kid—a really _little_ kid. You were so cute, running around with a pair of black cat ears peaking out of your hair and a tail that never stopped moving, growling at all the other little kiddies that tried to steal your food just because you were the smallest."     It really shouldn't have shocked me to hear that; it really shouldn't have, but it did. "Let me get this straight," I said, taking a deep breath to try and stay calm. "Anita has bribery material of me, and apparently I used to run around in some half-and-half form when I was a kid?"     "Basically," Jason said. "Hey, it's not so bad. There are a lot of lycanthropes that would give their arms and legs to be able to have a half-and-half form."     I waved a hand, trying to convey that it was just a little shocking. "It's just taking time to get used to things, you know?" I said, lacing my arms behind my head. "I mean, I didn't know about most of this stuff until yesterday. I don't have a lot of memories up until about age six or seven, but it never really bothered me. Finding out about what my childhood was like is kind of disturbing since I never knew I had one."     We reached the end of the stairs, and after opening another door we were in yet another Jean-Claude influenced office. His taste in furniture was unmistakable now that I knew what to look for.     Jean-Claude waved at us distractedly, still busy on the phone with the Traveler. They were speaking in French, and Jean-Claude was talking so fast that the words all sounded crunched together. Anita was talking with Damian, who seemed to be sulking in the corner of the office. And, much to my non-surprise, my four missing friends were huddled together with Richard.     Quatre looked over at me guiltily, shrugging as if to say 'we tried to make it.' I just gave him a look to say that he'd be questioned severely later. Trowa was trying not to laugh at his lover, but wasn't being very successful. Wufei and Heero looked up at the same time and gave me identical smiles, which had me laughing so hard that I had to grab onto Jason's shoulder so I wouldn't fall.     Jason looked over at me in confusion, his blonde eyebrows drawn together. "What?" he asked.     I shook my head, still gasping for breath. "Nothing," I managed at last. "Just that the two men in my life are utterly, fucking priceless."     Jason sighed as he caught sight of Anita and Damian. "Damn, he's still mad," the werewolf muttered.     "What did you do?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.     Fidgeting, Jason blushed slightly—something that I didn't think Jason knew how to do—and said, "Well, Damian told me earlier to quit teasing him. It was right after he'd woken up and fed, and I was just screwing around, nothing unusual. But there was just something about the way he said it that took me off guard. I told him that I wasn't teasing, and he practically threw me through the wall and took off."     Snickering, I couldn't help but think the cliché phrase, Ah, young love! "Don't worry," I said consolingly, doing what manly men do and smacking him hard on the ass. He let out a yelp, and I laughed even harder.     "Duo, could you please quit flirting with Jason?" Wufei asked with both of his eyebrows raised. Heero had his arm draped over Wufei's shoulder and was nodded in agreement.     Putting a finger to my lips, I pretended to think about it. "Well…" When they gave me identical puppy dog expressions, I capitulated. No one, not even Shinigami, stood a chance against Heero and Wufei puppy eyes. Walking over to them, I said, "All right. But just because you asked nicely."     Wufei smiled at that, glancing over at Heero. "Did you hear that? If we ask nicely, we get what we want."     Heero leered at me over Wufei's shoulder, his prussian eyes looking me over consideringly. "Do we get everything we want?" he asked.     Laughing, I shook my head. "You two are too much," I said. "How the hell am I supposed to handle both of you?"     Richard decided to put in his two cents at that point. "Only God knows, and even he is doubtful, pond skipper," he intoned in English with a really bad Asian accent, chocolate brown eyes brimming with humour.     "You got your religions and regions crossed there," Heero drawled, though he had found it funny. It was just to good of an opportunity to pass up, teasing Richard.     Sniffing like a girl, Richard turned his back on us, saying, "Well, I'll just take my marbles and go home. I can see that you're nothing but a group of kobolds, come to ruin my opium dreams."     "Someone's been watching a little too much _Wizard of Oz_," Wufei muttered, glancing at Heero.     "Either that, or someone's had a little too much opium," Heero added.     None of my friends had dressed up for the night, but that didn't stop Heero and Wufei from looking utterly irresistible. Heero was still wearing the same clothes he'd had on that morning, and Wufei was wearing a navy blue tanktop and a pair of baggy, faded jeans. He hadn't bothered to comb his hair back into a tail, so it fell around his face freely. I thought it was cute how every now and then Heero would deliberately cause a strand to fall into Wufei's face, and then Wufei would scowl and push it back. He didn't bother to remove Heero from his shoulder, though.     "You know, I was mad that I had to sit alone at that table tonight," I said, moving to stand just in front of them.     "We're really sorry, Duo," Heero apologised. "We tried to make it on time, but then we ran into an OZ patrol at the pizzeria of all places. It seems that the OZ/Romefeller/White Fang talks aren't going all that well."     "Not to mention the fact that we were being tailed by a pink limo the whole time," Wufei grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.     I nearly choked at the mention of the pink limo. "You mean…she's managed to find us?" I squeaked. Shinigami, I hoped it wasn't so!     "We lost her, but she knows we're here in New Kobe," Heero said grimly.     At the thought of Relena being in the same town, I suddenly felt very proprietary. Relena didn't like me, and I really didn't care. I thought she was somewhat psychotic considering the fact that she hated me because I'd shot Heero, who'd been trying to kill her at the time.     Her twisted sense of logic confused me. …Of course, lately, a lot of things confused me.     I couldn't wait for normalcy to return.     She'd been a constant thorn in our side for the past two years, giving away our hiding places as she tried to track down Heero, whom she was convinced was in love with her. It turns out that Relena doesn't like very many people at all. She's "in love" with Heero because he was the first to say to her face that he didn't care for her. Not to mention the fact that she's turned-on by death threats. Apparently she also developed a crush on Wufei after Noin told her about Wufei's disdain for women. It's one of those 'woman-hating enigma' types of things; you know, she'll be the one to "change" him, to make him open up.     Upon reflection, I was shocked that Relena was still alive.     However, if she tried to make a move on either Wufei or Heero, she was going to find herself in a catfight, pun intended. I wasn't going to share, especially with a spoiled, fanciful princess.     That decided, I smiled up at Wufei, blinking my eyelashes coyly. He gave me one of those 'What are you up to?' looks that had me all but purring with mischief. I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair, pressing myself against him as I kissed him. Wufei opened his mouth without much preamble, and I let myself drown in his taste again, letting the warmth seep into me. I could feel someone moving my hair aside, and then lips pressed against the back of my neck. I knew that it was Heero, and I didn't care that we were in the middle of a room full of people. I freed one hand to rake my fingernails down Wufei's back, laughing into the kiss as he let out a groan and arched his back. Heero was pressed up against my back, his hands sliding up Wufei's bare arms even as his teeth scraped against my neck before he nipped my ear. Smiling in pure abandon, I tore my lips away from Wufei's and turned my head just enough to catch Heero's mouth in a deep, probing kiss. I slid my hands across Wufei's chest, wishing that we were at home so that I could run my hands over bare flesh rather than annoying fabric.     A very exasperated cough made me sigh and break away from both Wufei and Heero. I didn't feel the least bit embarrassed or sorry, but I was rather pissed that we'd been interrupted. However, when I looked at Anita's face, I realized that she would have physically dragged me away from them if she'd had to. And if Anita'd gotten physical, it probably wouldn't have been pretty.     Anita tugged on one of the curls beside her face, arching an eyebrow. "Care to say what brought this on?" she asked, blinking at me expectantly.     "A pink limo," I replied with a straight face, ignoring my friends as they dissolved into hysterical laughter     "A pink limo," she repeated. Giving me an unreadable look, she said, "Remind me to ask you about that later. Anyway, since Jean-Claude's still tied up, Asher's smoothing the ruffled feathers out in the crowd, and Damian's pouting and Jason's trying to clear things up, you might as well take these two up to meet Shinta. Just ask the cross check-in girls to point you in the right direction; and don't worry, they're expecting you."     Expecting me. Well, that was nice since it would keep me from having to make a long, convoluted explanation as to who I was and why I was looking for Shinta. I wanted to check on him anyway to make sure he was okay after what had happened, so it seemed like a perfect thing to do while I wanted for the various crisis' to be resolved.     Turning to my significant others I gave them a grin. "Come on, I think you two will enjoy this." I knew that I was going to enjoy their expression when they began to realise just what kind of a person I was related to.     All in all, the day had been rather good. I was still alive, I had retained my meagre sanity, I had two gorgeous, more-than-human Gundam pilots at my fingertips, I had a living if not quite sane relative, and I was finally returning to normal. All that I needed now was to kill the insane faerie and convince Relena to take a long walk off a short pier.     However, with the track record I'd had in the past two days, I had a feeling that could take awhile. 

* * *

[1]. ::sweatdrop:: I don't know what happened there. I was trying to think of something weird to eat on a waffle, and for some reason that's what I came up with. Blame the muse. 

    K'lendel: Oi, kaachan! 

P.S. Look, Ten, only _one_ little random floating number thingy! My dependency is lessoning. Actually, I've just decided to exert authorial privileges and say that if you don't get it, oh well. It's my dementia anyway, right? And, um, Shinta's yukata…yeah, it's a furosode. I seem to have this weird habit of making people cross-dress without the intent of having them cross-dress. 

[Part 6] 


	6. Part 6

**Blood Dance —**  
Part 6  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Gundam Wing_ (and _Rurouni Kenshin_) apply. _Anita Blake_ and all subsequent characters (this includes from the _Kiss of Shadows_ and _Caress of Twilight_ books) belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. The only thing I get out of this is a tiny ego boost and a lot of headaches from computer glitches, so suing would most likely get you a bad Xerox copy of my hand flipping you the bird with the words 'Seriamaius Lives!' scrawled in sloppy handwriting with red marker. 

Warnings: Okay peoples (and, yes, I put the 'S' there on purpose ;p), this is Part 6. If you don't know what's in this fic by now—where the hell have you _been_?! And yes, Trowa's a special werewolf, 'cause he gets magic clothes that disappear and reappear on a whim. Why? Because I can, of course. 

P.S. This is the _third_—yes, you read that right, _third_—attempt at getting this part done. If it doesn't work this time, if my computer eats it again, I'm going to lose what little hold on reality I have. You'll then see my face on America's Most Wanted for holding up ice cream trucks, bookstores, and stealing Pocky from little kids. 

Posted: July 2002  
Revised: August 2002  


* * *

The trek back upstairs was rather uneventful. Not that I was complaining, mind you. After the things that had gone on in the last few days, a little uneventfulness was rather nice. It was too bad that Asher couldn't say the same thing; we waved briefly as we made our way past him towards the back of the stage. The Nyan-Nyan twins had told us that the dressing rooms were backstage, and that Shinta's was the last one down the hall. People were still seated out in the audience, some of them with rather vague, disoriented expressions. There was one lady crying over in the corner, and the man that Asher was currently dealing with was laughing one of those low, eerie laughs that sets your hair on end.     Like I said, I didn't envy Asher in the least.     The hallway behind the stage was dimly lit, and dancers milled about, spilling from various rooms. A few flashed wide smiles, sporting canines that still managed to gleam brightly despite the lack of light. I had a feeling that I was supposed to be impressed or frightened. Unfortunately for them, the only emotion I felt was amusement, and I was almost certain that they wouldn't appreciate me laughing in their faces. After having dealt with Jean-Claude, Asher, Damian, and Heero, I just couldn't find it in me to call them scary.     "Hmmm, I think someone's drawing attention again," Wufei murmured.     I glanced at him, wondering what he meant by that. I saw the tiny smile hovering about his lips and snorted. "Why am I the one who always gets blamed for these things?"     "Because Wufei and I look like your average, teenage Shadowkind punks right now," Heero said, fingers tracing down the inside of my arm, latching around my wrist. "You, however, look like dinner…very, very sexy dinner."     "Are you saying that I look easy?"     Wufei snickered. "We'd never imply that, Duo. Just because all we have to do is this—"     I bit back a yelp as his hand found its way inside my shirt, fingers skimming across my belly. The tingling sensation that occurred whenever someone touched me flared to life, a curling fire in the pit of my belly. As Wufei continued to trace his fingers downward, the fire spread from my belly to my groin, and my knees began to buckle. If Heero hadn't wrapped his arm around my waist at the last minute, those gawking dancers would have gotten to see me become intimate with the floor.     "Okay, point proven," I gasped sourly, glaring at both of them as I tried to get my feet back underneath me.     I now know exactly how girls feel when they cross their arms over their chests, roll their eyes, and say "Boys," with a shake of their heads.     I made it the rest of the way to Shinta's dressing room without being molested—and I wasn't sure if I was happy or disappointed by that fact. I knocked twice before opening the door and slipping inside, Heero and Wufei right behind me.     Shinta had changed from his dancing outfit into a simple silk wrap; his hair, released from its confines, spilled over his back and down to the floor like molten lava. He smiled, looking up from the book he'd been leaned over. "Hello, Duo." Then he frowned, looking Wufei and Heero over with narrowed eyes. "And who are your friends?" he asked, voice gone almost deadly soft.     Gotta love the psychopathic relatives.     "Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei, fellow Gundam pilots and my…." I struggled for a word to use. Lovers? Well, Heero had almost been but Quatre had interrupted that. Not that I wasn't determined to rectify the situation if an opportunity presented itself. I might as well go with the safest option available. "And my friends."     Shinta nodded, lips twitching into an almost-smile, as if he knew just what my thoughts had been. "Hajimemashite, Heero-san, Chang-san."     Almost as if they had planned it—and maybe they had, for all I knew—Wufei and Heero bowed at the exact same time. Righting themselves, Wufei smirked. "It's a pleasure to meet such a venerated man as yourself, Shinta-san."     "And finding that you are a relation of our beloved Duo makes it doubly so," Heero added, a light glinting in his eyes that made me wonder if he was serious or being a smart ass.     This time Shinta smiled fully. "Well, they certainly have pretty manners, Duo," he murmured, arching an eyebrow as he glanced at me.     I snorted. "Yeah, when they want to. Most of the time Heero has worse manners than me, and 'Fei? 'Fei's just a stuck up snob at heart. He likes his pretty-pretty manners."     Score a point for me, I thought, when Heero and Wufei made offended noises and shared looks of righteous indignation at my accusations. Shinta laughed, though, and seeing him smile and laugh after the surprise of less than an hour before made our stupid, childish antics seem worth it all.     Shinta sighed, absently returning to inking in his book. "I'm sure than Jean-Claude will send someone to question me soon."     "I don't know… When we left the basement a few minutes ago, he was babbling in French to the Traveler on the phone. And Asher was running crowd control, so it could be awhile before anyone makes their way back here."     Chuckling, Shinta shook his head. "Saitou always said that he hated making a scene, but he never failed to make a big one despite his words. I think there's a little bit of drama queen in him somewhere."     "Sounds like someone else we know," Wufei muttered.     I glared at him. Was it citywide Pick On Duo Night or something? Here Wufei was, getting all huffy with me, when if any one of us should have a reason to be indignant, it was me. I had been ditched by my friends, accosted and glamoured by a psychotic faerie bitch, turned into a black leopard, discovered a lost relative that couldn't die, as well as met his scary vampiric, er, lover. And I'd managed all of this in a little over twenty-four hours.     Deciding to share this little rant of mine aloud, I opened my mouth and drew in a breath, only to have it all leave me as the door to the dressing room was suddenly flung open and a blonde, bombshell vision in crimson stalked into the room, slamming the door behind her.     I blinked in surprise, wondering if I hadn't damaged my vision somehow. It was either that or someone had managed to slip me something somewhere along the way. I had to be hallucinating—I _had_ to be.     I mean, why would Dorothy Catalonia be standing the doorway of Shinta's dressing room wearing red leather hot pants, a lace halter-top, and nothing else?     Not that I was complaining, mind you. Dorothy's rather well built, and she knows it. Large, firm breasts, long slender legs that go on forever, creamy pale skin…. It's something that she manages to carry around with her no matter where she is or what she's wearing. Kind of this 'look at me and know that you're inferior' type of thing.     If I didn't have the world's most fucked up love life at the moment, I would have considered going for her. Maybe.     Her eyes narrowed when they fell on me, her fingers flexing like claws down at her sides. Some tiny corner of my mind noted that her fingernail polish matched her outfit, sparkling with incandescent glitter. "Duo Maxwell."     I couldn't help but smile at the way she hissed my name; she was like a cat that'd had her fur rubbed the wrong way. "Dorothy Catalonia."     She stalked into the room as though she owned it—of course, if you can walk in five-inch stiletto heels, you could pretty much own anything—pale eyes sweeping over Heero, Wufei, and myself, eventually settling on Shinta. Shinta seemed almost oblivious, continuing his tiny, precise inking in his journal. "Relative of yours, Maxwell?" she drawled. "He certainly is pretty enough."     "Maybe." Ah, yes, evasiveness at its best. People really shouldn't underestimate the power of the word 'maybe.' "What do you want, Dorothy? I thought you'd be glued to the Ojousama's side. Stalking us is rather her forte, not yours."     A flash of white teeth—teeth with _very_ prominent eyeteeth, I might add—was my immediate answer. "Oh, I'd love nothing more than to be at Relena-sama's side at the moment. However, there's a slight problem with that."     I arched an eyebrow, glancing at Heero and Wufei. Both of them seemed to be just as lost as I was. I couldn't help but feel a bit smug that I wasn't the only one out of the loop for a brief moment in time. "All right, I'll bite. So what's the problem?"     "Milliardo-sama." The grin became more of a grimace, Dorothy's eyes flashing briefly with amber-green. "It seems he's been using his vacation from the Foundation to brush up on some extra-curricular reading. He managed to put two and two together and get four—this time, anyway. He exposed me to the entire Foundation and OZ. Noin's so clueless that she hasn't even figured out that he knows she a witch, but…" She shrugged, absently brushing her fingers over the red leather. "I have connections, in the world of endless night. I heard just this morning about you, Maxwell. And when the—oh, how shall I put it?"     "Shit hit the fan?" Wufei supplied blandly, sloe eyes bright with amusement.     Dorothy smiled slightly, nodding her head in acknowledgment. "Yes, I believe that fits the bill quite well. I have to admit that Milliardo-sama could do with brushing up on his decorum lessons. He currently does tact with a double-headed battle-axe. We're a dying breed in the first place, and then to expose me on inter-space broadcast like that…. Well, you were the only one I could think of to go to."     The door to the dressing room was abruptly thrown open—again—and a slightly out of breath Jason leaned heavily against the frame, blonde hair dripping into his face. "Duo…I heard…the _nimir-ra_…" His eyes fastened on Dorothy, widening in surprise. "Oh…shit…"     Dorothy laughed, a lush, rolling sound that was all predator. "Hello, Jason. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"     It was obvious that Dorothy was enjoying Jason's fear. Not that it was surprising, mind you. Dorothy enjoys a good mind-fuck; I think that was the biggest reason that she stepped out into the political scene at Relena's side. She's smug about it too, though not without unfounded reason. Dorothy's quite good at what she does.     And while it was all very interesting, and a truly sadistic part of me was enjoying watching Jason fidget despite the fact that I liked the guy, I knew there was a thing or six that I was missing. "Okay, so what exactly is it that Zechs has done this time—you said something about exposing you? Though I don't know why that'd piss you off; you're doing a rather good job of _exposing_ yourself right now. Quit making Jason squirm, Dorothy, and focus, please."     "Ooh, I love a man who likes to take charge," Dorothy said with a little purr, stretching sensually with her arms over her head, exposing quite a bit of creamy flesh and drawing attention to her breasts. Her smile was smug when she saw the way Jason had blushed and turned away, but I simply arched an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest.     "Oh, all right, Maxwell. Don't get your tail in a knot," she said with a slight hint of exasperation. "Zechs exposed me as a wereleopard on this afternoon's live broadcast. In exposing me, though, he endangered my entire pard. There are only a dozen or so of us in the first place, and we're good at hiding, but we need patronage…sanctuary."     "Ah, so that is why you are here, _ma blonde vixen_."     Great. Asher had come to investigate. I caught sight of his golden head out of the corner of my eye, and sighed when I noticed the way his tall frame seemed to take up what little space was left. I was just about to comment on the fact that the dressing room was getting way too cramped when Shinta beat me to the punch.     Scowling, my relative sat as tall in his chair as he could; apparently we'd managed to distract him from his writing. He was wearing nothing more than an ivory wrap and surrounded by the unbound glory of crimson hair, tanzanite eyes still shadowed in makeup—over-all looking decidedly effeminate and delicate—yet he somehow managed to say in a tone that brooked no argument, "Take this outside. Now. Before I am forced to hurt each and every one of you to make you leave."     I looked at the eye pencil he'd reached for and was brandishing in front of him, and I knew I wasn't the only one trying to figure out what kind of damage Shinta could possibly do with kohl. But then I had only to look in his eyes, to note the gold that frosted the lavender, and I was ushering people out the door as fast as I could.     I wasn't in any hurry to find out how efficiently Shinta could murder someone with a makeup pencil. There are some things that are better left unknown and that was one of them. 

It was an odd jumble of people that made their way into the basement. Heero had taken point, followed by Jason who kept looking over his shoulder at Dorothy, a grimace constantly on his face. Dorothy was looking smug, her arm laced through mine; somehow I'd ended up with lady-escorting duty, but I wasn't so sure that it was a lady I had on my arm. Wufei was behind me, and I could feel his smirk radiating through my skin—he found the whole thing quite funny—and Asher was walking with him. Apparently Shinta's threat had frightened even Jean-Claude's second-in-command. 

    I wasn't sure I wanted to take time to ponder that implication.     The first thing I noticed was that it was quiet—Jean-Claude was off the phone. Glancing around, I found him leaning over the arm of one of the ridiculously ornate loveseats—I mean, really, cherry wood and black leather with iron filigree?—deep in conversation with Richard. After a moment, he gestured over his shoulder and the two of them exited the room, going back the way we had come. I felt a brief moment of inquisitiveness—had they not seen us or were they ignoring us?—but it passed when I began to look for my other fellow pilots.     Quatre was sprawled in the corner on the floor, a very large dog in his lap— Okay, scratch that; it wasn't a dog, it was a very large Trowa-werewolf in his lap, tongue lolling from between scary looking teeth as he made tiny whimpers of pleasure while Quatre ran his fingers through the thick ruff of light auburn fur.     I made a mental note that Trowa-werewolf was almost as creepy as Relena.     "Hmmm, that looks like fun," Dorothy purred, following my gaze. She turned her face down to me, expression impish. "Wanna rub my belly, Maxwell?"     I scowled as Wufei began to choke, trying not to laugh. Glancing at Heero, I saw him shake his head with a smile, crossing his arms over his chest. Abruptly I was distracted from Dorothy's flirtatious comment as I watched the see-through material draw taut over his chest. Mmmm, Heero chest…     "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"     Yet again I was distracted at the sharp question, glancing up to find Anita suddenly in the middle of the room, directly in front of us. I felt Dorothy tense beside me, turning my gaze to her as she removed her arm from mine and took a step forward. "I have come to the Master of the City to ask for asylum for my pard, and to seek the sanctuary of the true _nimir-raj_'s power."     I had no idea what Dorothy was talking about, but apparently it was a Big Deal; Heero actually blinked in surprise, Wufei's lips twisted in a thoughtful frown, and Jason paled even more than he already had at Dorothy's appearance.     A bark of laughter escaped Anita's lips, serrated, rusty razors and bitter, winter winds. "You? The defective _nimir-ra_ who collects the world's charity lycanthropes? You have come to _us_ for asylum and sanctuary? What makes you think that you even have the right to exist in the same world as us, let alone have our protection?"     Dorothy's jaw clenched, and she looked away from Anita. "My parley is not with you, Necromancer, but with the Master of the City." Her eyes were narrowed, true amber-green now. "We have nowhere left to go, at present. In case you hadn't heard, the Foundation has exposed myself and several other high-profile lycanthropes on inter-space communication. Half of my people don't even look human, and there's no way that I would be able to hide them all, even with my financial backing. I helped Jean-Claude once, not long ago, and I'm asking him to return the favour."     A sound like a bullwhip cracking echoed through the air as Anita threw her jacket off, revealing daggers sheathed on each forearm. "No way in hell," she growled, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I will not allow such impure filth here, and I will not bother Jean-Claude with your plea."     I blinked. Impure filth? Defect? No right to exist? What the hell was going on—and why was Anita suddenly vying for the Uber Bitch of the Year award?     Glancing back and forth between Anita and Dorothy, seeing the way they were glaring at one another, I wondered if Heero was aware that his Death Glare had competition. "You brought weapons, right?" I muttered, not tearing my gaze away from a potentially volatile situation. I knew that I was armed—I'm paranoid, after all, and I take my gun to bathe—but I wasn't sure about the others.     "Worried?" Wufei asked with a small smirk, tossing his head in the direction of the two women.     "Is Heero suicidal?"     "Not at the moment," Heero said, defending himself with a grin. I found it ironically not funny that I was the one worried this time while they were amused.     "Well, I know I'm not seeing things; those two look like they want to tear each other's throats out," I snapped, glaring at each of them in turn. Maybe I was suffering from a male form of PMS; I was certainly being bitchy enough.     Actually, scrap that. I wasn't being bitchy; everyone else had suddenly decided to develop a personality without memoing me ahead of time. I shouldn't really complain since I was finding Heero's and Wufei's personalities very interesting in certain aspects, but some of those other aspects were getting a bit…annoying.     The staring—excuse me, _glaring_—contest continued, Anita's hands curling into fists down at her sides while Dorothy's flexed like claws. Then they suddenly started to circle one another, crouched on the balls of their feet like they were preparing to lock in battle at any moment. That wasn't really the part that bothered me though; what bothered me was the fact that they both started to glow—Anita a disconcerting black, Dorothy a pale red—and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.     It also pissed me off.     "Knock it the fuck off," I snarled, narrowing my eyes at both of them. What 'it' was, I wasn't exactly sure, but I knew that I wanted it to stop.     "Stay out of this, Duo!" Anita's tone was wintry, and the look she briefly threw my way could have frozen Hell. Her aura continued to grow, little tongues of black fire dancing from her body.     Unfortunately for her, she failed to realise that the Look wouldn't work on someone who was deluded enough to think they were a god of Hell.     Not even thinking, I reached for the Glock holstered at my back, drawing it in one smooth, fast movement, flipping off the safety and firing the first round into the air before pointing the barrel at a point directly between them. "Knock. It. The. Fuck. Off."     Both Anita and Dorothy were staring at me with wide eyes; Dorothy more because the shot had surprised her, Anita more because of the fact that I was pointing a gun in her direction. "There's a hole in the ceiling," Anita said after a few moments of silence. "And you really shouldn't run around with a chambered round."     "I'll apologise to Jean-Claude later," I replied, smirking. I wasn't sure when my cockiness had decided to come back, but I didn't really care either; I was suddenly having a hell of a good time. "And I'm a terrorist, Anita, wanted by nearly-fucking-everyone. Do you really think I'm worried about the handgun laws of the area?"     Dorothy began to laugh, arms crossed beneath her breasts. "Oh, I had forgotten what a delightful breath of fresh air that you are, Duo!"     I raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, I think."     Asher cleared his throat, eyebrows drawn together as he looked at Anita. "If we are quite done with the childish antics, I believe that Jean-Claude would like us all to meet in the boardroom."     I laughed, finding Asher's expression and careful wording funny. "Nice touch of diplomacy there, Asher. Well, I've got nothing better to do. Lead the way, oh blonde Adonis of the Night."     Asher glared at me, sweeping up the stairs silently. Wufei slapped me on the back of the head as I continued to laugh, while Heero grabbed my arm to drag me upstairs. I couldn't explain it, really, but suddenly things seemed absolutely hilarious. Dorothy and Anita getting into a pissing contest like that, me scaring Anita and making Dorothy laugh… I didn't even bother to look and see if Anita and Dorothy were following us, didn't stop to see if they'd started fighting again…didn't really care one way or the other. I was alive, Wufei was shooting me smouldering looks, Heero's fingers were tracing up my back as he led me up the stairs, Quatre was laughing as Trowa yipped happy little werewolf sounds, and I hadn't had to shoot anyone in nearly a week. All in all, it was a rather good day compared to my usual.     By the time we reached the boardroom, I was grinning like an idiot. Heero snorted when he turned and saw my expression. "Behave, Duo," he murmured.     Blinking, I gave him my best innocent expression—which is pretty damn good, if you ask me. "I have no idea what on earth you're talking about, Heero. Really, you'd think I was untrustworthy, the way you and Wufei were hovering around me." And it was true: I could feel Wufei right behind me, fingers flexing as if he were waiting to stop me from doing something stupid, while Heero just continued to look at me.     Heero smiled slightly. "Untrustworthy, no. Unpredictable, yes."     I rolled my eyes, watching everyone else file into the room. Jean-Claude stepped out from a door in the back of the room, Richard right behind him. I frowned as I watched Jean-Claude brush his fingers over Richard's wrist, wondering if it was an absent action or if it was meant to be reassuring. I had often done similar things to Heero and Wufei after particularly bad missions when they weren't exactly…dealing well, with the results of our actions.     "I see that you are all here now," Jean-Claude said. "Please, be seated. I have had some…unsettling news, from the Traveler, and considering the events of the last few days, I wish to bring you all up to speed."     I followed Heero and Wufei to the table. Heero sat closest to Jean-Claude, Wufei next to him, which left me sitting on the end. I was a little bit surprised to see Dorothy take the seat next to me. She smiled tightly, the corners of her eyes pinched with worry that I had only seen on her when Relena was involved; whatever was going on had her really scared.     If it could scare Dorothy, then it was bad.     Jason took up position behind Richard, leaning against the wall. Asher closed the door we had come through and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest in a deceptively relaxed pose. I wasn't sure if it was just me, but everyone seemed on edge.     Pre-battle on edge.     Anita was the last to take a seat, and she didn't even really sit. She leaned against the wall near Jason, a deep crease between her brows, a scowl in permanent residence on her blood red-stained lips.     Jean-Claude first turned his attention to Dorothy, a small smile playing about his face. "Dorothy, so good to see you. How have you been?"     Dorothy sighed, passing a hand in front of her eyes. "I've been better, Jean-Claude. Have you been informed of the reason for my visit?"     "The Traveler said something about being exposed?"     She flashed the tight smile once again. "Yes, it was something like that. Being as I am a high profile figure in interstellar politics, it's a big deal though. And the fact that I am nimir-ra of my pard makes it doubly so; I wouldn't be surprised if the Romefeller Foundation knows that names of over half my people now. And so, I have come to you, my last hope."     "Last hope, Dorothy?"     "You're the only one with enough power to hide us until this all blows over—_if_ this all blows over. You currently have all five Gundam pilots with you, as well, and their protection isn't taken lightly. All I ask is asylum for my pard; I do not ask you to fight my battles, to defend me from my enemies in the outside world, only to give sanctuary to my people."     Jean-Claude steepled his fingers, lips flushed with blood pursing into a thoughtful moue. "Asylum I can provide, Dorothy, but only for a short time. I am sure that you know of the problems we are facing ourselves?"     Dorothy cocked her head to the side. "Only bits and pieces. I know that Miburou is involved, as well as the Sidhe to some extent."     "Yes, well, that is what the Traveler called me about. It seems that the Seelie Court is claiming that Ellinea's actions are entirely independent. However, there have been infractions in Europe with Seelie Court representatives lately that have the Council worried. The King of the Shining Court is refusing all inquiries to meet with a Council Representative, and the fact that they've simply declared Ellinea wanted dead or alive doesn't sit well with what we know of the Sidhe. Life is precious to them, for their birth-rate is low; the last time such cutthroat tactics were employed by either the Shining Court or the Darkling Throng was before Brewster's Law in the early twenty-first century."     I frowned at his words. "Have we even figured out why she targeted me in the first place? I mean, other than the fact I'm drop dead sexy, and all."     Jean-Claude chuckled at my words. "I am afraid not, _mon panthère_. And even what Shinta was able to tell us about Miburou's visit tonight fails to shed light onto the insanity. I'm beginning to wonder if the events of the plasmababies and Ellinea are even the same problem. Which then makes me wonder which is the worse problem to deal with."     "Well, I know that Miburou said he'd give us information tomorrow night—well, tonight, technically. He'll probably contact Shinta with the information, but I know that I'd like to meet with him."     "As would I," Heero murmured, Wufei nodding in agreement as well.     "Is that safe?" Dorothy asked, glancing sharply at Jean-Claude. "New Kobe's pard isn't exactly the most…stable, of pards. They don't like to share their territory, and if they catch wind of Duo…"     "Huh?" I looked at Dorothy in complete bewilderment. "Forgive me for being clueless, Dorothy, but I'm pretty new to this whole 'I turn into a big black cat' thing."     Dorothy smiled nastily at Anita though her eyes never left my face. "Let me tell you a thing or two about pard politics, Duo—since I know that someone else won't have bothered to tell you."     "Leave it alone, Dorothy," Anita said, her voice hushed. "He doesn't need to know." Dorothy arched an eyebrow. "Doesn't he, Anita?"     "It's not going to affect him—ever."     "You sound so sure of yourself," Dorothy murmured. "But, I'm afraid that I don't believe you. See, _I_ have heard all of the old stories, Anita. The ones about your true powers, about how you share the _ardour_ of your vampire lover, about how you have the ability to call beasts. Forgive me, Jean-Claude, for I mean no affront to you, but I do know my stories quite well—and life's lessons have only proved them to be true."     She smirked, turning to face me completely. "Did she tell you how she really called your beast, Duo? Or did she feed you that line about how she was using Richard's power to do it?"     Confused as to what exactly was going on, I bit my lip, looking between Anita and Dorothy. It seemed as though I'd somehow wound up in the middle of yet another pissing contest, but as to why—and over what—I wasn't certain. "Option two," I said, watching Anita's eyes.     There was a flash there, an amber-green that shouldn't have been, before they subsided into depths of brown. "Stop it now, Dorothy."     Dorothy laughed, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "Or you'll what, Anita? You might be nimir-ra in your own right, but so am I, as well. And even with the power of Jean-Claude and Richard behind you, you're not powerful enough to knock my beast down. That's why your happy little pard's pissed that I and mine are here, aren't they? Oh, Duo may not have run into them yet, but I have—it was quite a chore having to get my claws bloody right after stepping off the plane. They fear us, the evil, defective gene-construct lycanthropes that could knock them down like flies if we so desired."     Pale eyes narrowing, Dorothy curled her lip in distaste. "You had us created, Anita. You and the others like you had us created in the hopes of having strong lycanthropes to flesh out your groups should a fight over Brewster's Law begin. I've even heard rumours of a war."     I was starting to get the picture and it wasn't very pretty. Problems with the Sidhe, problems with the vampires…problems with the lycanthropes… Granted, I didn't really want to piss off Anita, because even if Dorothy could handle her, I wasn't sure that I could. Not to mention the fact that with Jean-Claude and Richard in the room, the odds weren't exactly in my favour.     And I knew, from watching Anita's eyes, that what Dorothy was saying was the truth. It hadn't been Richard's power that had called my beast last night: it had been Anita's and Anita's alone.     Anita sighed, looking away. "What exactly to you want me to say, Dorothy? It seems as though you know the whole story yourself."     "All I want is for Duo to know the truth. I want him to know why the Kobe Pard will most likely be stalking him when he prowls the streets, I want him to know why Ellinea was most likely drawn to him."     "You come into _my_ territory without permission, and you expect me to just submit to your wishes?" Anita was angry, I could tell that just by looking at her with physical senses that she was mentally plotting the various ways to dismember Dorothy.     "Stop this, Anita."     Jean-Claude's softly issued command startled even me, and I found myself turning towards the vampire with an eyebrow arched.     Richard's face was a mask, turned towards Jean-Claude and away from the rest of us. He seemed perfectly at ease, but I wondered why his attention was focused on the vampire rather than the near-fight going on. I hadn't expected him to turn his back to danger.     Then again, maybe Jean-Claude _was_ the more dangerous one at the moment.     Beautiful alabaster face completely neutral, Jean-Claude was giving as close to a glare as I had ever seen him give. "We have no time for this, Anita, and I no longer have the patience for you petty games. I have granted Dorothy and her pard asylum; she is a powerful ally and I would appreciate it if you would stop antagonising her. Also, she is right: you need to tell Duo the truth."     Anita laughed, a bitter ring that sounded like jagged glass. "Tell the truth? That's rich, coming from you!"     Smiling slightly, Jean-Claude murmured, "You may be able to call my body during the day, _ma petite_, but do not forget which of us has gained in power over the years…and which of us has not."     You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Anita's jaw was clenched so tightly that I was expecting to hear it crack any minute, but Jean-Claude seemed entirely unaffected by her glare. She glanced briefly at Richard, as if looking for support, but Richard continued to stare at Jean-Claude. "If you do not, Anita, then I shall," Jean-Claude said, eyes narrowing as he laid his hand to Richard's shoulder.     Reassurance? Protection? Again, I wondered at the gesture, and wondered what was going on amidst the happy little _ménage trois_.     Anita glared at Jean-Claude's hand, and I wondered if there was something in that subtle touch that was particularly infuriating; the last time I'd seen such a look of loathing, anger, fear, betrayal, and pain on someone's face was when Quatre had watched the replay of his father's and sister's death after the whole Wing Gundam ZERO/Trowa lost in space fiasco.     "Fine!" she snapped, turning her head away. She pushed away from the wall and began to stalk around the room, staying as far away from us as possible. Stopping, she turned to me, her eyes still spitting fire. "You want to know the truth? Can you handle the fucking truth, Duo Maxwell?"     I sensed both Wufei and Heero's anger at her sharp words toward me—yeah, something about Jean-Claude and Richard had pissed her off royally—but I motioned for them to stay back with a shake of my head. Standing up, I pushed away from the table and looked her straight in the face. "I'm a sixteen-year-old Gundam pilot who's survived artificial plagues, air raids, Mobile Suit attacks, attempted self-destruction and suicide, as well as Quatre's home-brewed flu fighting concoctions. I am the self-professed Shinigami, also known as Maxwell's Demon for more than one reason. I run, I hide, but I never lie to anyone other than myself. Can I handle the "fucking" truth?" I grinned, putting my hand on my hip in a position that I knew was just cocky enough to piss her off even further. "Lady, I've fucked the truth and the truth's fucked me. If you want to scare someone, go try the Sanq Kingdom, but don't try it with me. I _am_ scary, Anita, probably scarier than you if I put my mind to it."     From her expression, I was right that I was going to piss her off. However, she also seemed quite surprised by my words, and I mentally buffed my fingers and patted myself on the back. Hey, it wasn't every day that you got one up on a nearly all-powerful uber-bitch.     "The truth is that all of you were made into what you are," she said softly, gaze dropping away from mine. "Well, nearly all of you—we had nothing to do with Quatre and Wufei, at least. You, Heero, Trowa, Dorothy, and Middie Une were all created through years of careful planning. However, Une became mentally imbalanced as a child and we sent her to foster with a family having ties to Jean-Claude, hoping it would help her find her centre again."     Obviously she'd been wrong, I thought, glancing at Wufei and Heero to find that they both had similar looks of bemusement on their faces.     "Heero…we lost track of Heero not long after his project was begun. He was stolen from the lab, right out from underneath our noses. Trowa…we didn't get a hold of Trowa until he was about ten or so, and then it was a matter of infecting someone already a genetic Newtype with lycanthropy. Dorothy has always been on her own after she was created, raised by first her father, then grandfather, into what she is now. And you…you were my pet project, that special creature that was going to link everything together."     She scowled, lips thin slashes of crimson in a pale white visage. "I didn't count on the Long Clan and the Khushrenadas figuring things out early, but they did and nearly ruined everything. They were the ones who stole you away and deposited you on L-2, the Long Clan's witches stealing your memories from before that point. Though you were a gene construct, Duo, I was having you raised with the utmost care. A child of a Newtype and a lycanthrope, gifted with the ability to hide himself from anyone, to become invisible to both physical and psychic senses…you were everything we wanted in our new lycanthropes, everything we would need to fight Brewster's Law. I had tried so long and so hard to create something akin to you, failing time and time again. It's those failures that Dorothy hides within her pard, you know."     I frowned, arching an eyebrow. "You know, Anita, if it weren't for the fact that you're being perfectly calm while you tell me this, I'd think you were a sociopathic megalomaniac."     Wufei snorted, tossing his head. "Think?" he hissed. "She is a sociopathic megalomaniac, Duo; there's no way around that fact at this point."     Grinning tightly, I muttered at him, "I know that, Wufei, but I was trying to avoid notifying her of that. Valuing my miserable life, and all."     I sighed, taking my seat again. "Okay, so I'm beginning to get the picture. It's fucked up and ugly as all hell, but I'm beginning to see the whole thing, I think." Things were really tense in the room and I was currently wishing that I was elsewhere. There was a lot of information to process now, and after glancing at Quatre, who was tight-lipped and hanging on to Trowa's collar with a death-grip, I decided that it would probably be best for us to talk things over amongst ourselves before talking with Anita or Jean-Claude more.     Plus, at the moment, I wasn't sure that Anita _could_ be talked to. Her sudden irrationalities had me more than a little bit disturbed.     "Well," I yawned, stretching my arms over my head, "we should probably get going. Today was wild, tomorrow's probably going to be wilder, and I'm _starving_!"     It was quiet in the room after my admission, and I looked around to find that everyone was staring at me with varying looks of dismay or bemusement. "What?"     "You're actually hungry after all of this?" Richard asked. It was the first time I'd heard him speak since leaving for Shinta's dressing room, and the exhaustion conveyed in his voice again had me wondering if we knew the whole story.     "I'm a growing boy. Of course I'm hungry!" 'Ch, why is it that everyone states the obvious around me? Has there ever been a time when I'm _not_ hungry? Okay, when Heero died and all that shit, but other than that… I can't think of a single bloody time, so why was everyone looking at me like I'd just announced I was off to sleep with the Khushrenada himself?     Sighing, I stood up and looked over at Trowa-werewolf. Trowa was usually the one guy I could count on to feed me—not to mention the one guy I could count on to listen to me rant and rave and actually give me sound advice afterwards. "Oi, Trowa, wanna go outside while the Panic Crew sits and chitchats some more?"     Trowa sat up, looking at Quatre and nuzzling his hand. Quatre shook his head and laughed, raking fingers through the defiant fur. "Oh, all right. Keep him out of trouble."     I bounded from the room, Trowa-werewolf on my heels. I wondered briefly who Quatre had been talking to, but I was pretty sure he'd been talking to Trowa. Why was it that everyone thought I was out to cause trouble? Why was I continually being forced to ask myself these stupid, self-reflective questions? Just because I like to blow things up… I mean, sheesh, you'd think I had a reputation as a God of Destruction or something.     …Oh, wait, I did.     Giggling at my own thoughts, I careened through the hallways like hell on legs, completely ignoring the people I bumped into, grinning as I heard Trowa yelping behind me. I didn't stop running until I'd reached the stairs, and then I simply collapsed and attempted to remember how to breathe.     The Trowa that collapsed at my feet moments later was a human Trowa, whose green t-shirt was untucked and almost looked like it was on sidewise, and who glared up at me through the faint sheen of sweat that dusted his face. "Care to tell me what that was all about? You haven't led me on a chase like that in months."     I sighed, propping my chin up on my hands. "I don't know. I guess…I guess I'm just feeling frustrated, antsy, you know?"     Trowa nodded, sitting up and leaning against the wall beside me. I was glad that no-one had come along to interrupt us, and I was hoping it would continue that way. I wanted someone to give me my daily dose of sanity-check, and since it hadn't been done yesterday, I figured I was way overdue.     "Well, you seem to be adjusting remarkably well."     "That's what I think too," I said with a smirk.     "You also seem to be recovering your usual snarky persona quite well."     "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being snarky. I'm American…somewhere, in my genes, at least. And I'm told that, since we're descended from the British, who are the original snarky ones, that that makes us snarky _upstarts_. So, if you put it in that perspective, I'm perfectly normal!"     Boy, I love my thought processes.     Trowa arched an eyebrow, but his eyes flashed with amusement—which meant I was in the clear. "You know, Duo, you'd think after two years that I would know all of your thought processes by heart. However, I think this is the first time I've heard that particular one."     "I should hope so," I muttered. "It was rather spontaneous on my part, you know."     We fell into silence for a few moments, the only sounds being that of faint voices filtering down the hallways towards us.     "What's really wrong, Duo?"     I groaned, slumping forward over my knees. "Would you believe me if I said I don't know? Because—seriously—I'm not really sure. Well, other than the fact that this glamour that the faerie bitch put on me makes absolutely no sense. Okay, I understand Quatre's theory and all, but I don't really buy it. Not completely, anyway. And I'm pretty goddamn sure that there's something sinister going on underneath all of this, that no-one knows the whole story, and that we're all getting played like fucking marionettes once again!" I growled, finally getting angry. "You know how much I hate being used like a puppet? That's all they think we are, you know—puppets, who dance to the cues of our master's finger twitches. I'm tellin' ya, the first chance I get, those fingers are coming off."     Trowa nodded. "Yeah, I understand. I know…I know exactly what you're talking about. Finding out that you're being manipulated like that…" He looked over at me, eyes such a dark green that they rivalled pines at midnight. "Quatre's the only thing that helps me to pull my own strings, you know. And even if we don't know completely what the glamour is doing to you, I'm certain that your bond to Heero and Wufei will do the same for you."     I smiled humourlessly. "And what bond would that be, hmmm? I mean, shit, Tro, I didn't even know that Wufei was attracted to me until yesterday. Yeah, he was my friend before that, and Heero too, but now there's something more there, and I'm getting really confused… My brain keeps telling me that this is all very weird, but my heart and body keep telling me that this is right, that this is the way things are supposed to be. …Well, for the most part, at least."     Trowa laughed at that. "Somehow, Duo, you always manage to capture the most difficult and complicated of situations in the most simple and succinct of ways."     "That's me, a man of simple words. Lots of words, but simple words."     I had fun snickering at my own joke, but ended up stopping when I noticed Trowa's eyes unfocus for a moment. "Um, what's up, Tro?"     "Quatre and everyone else are waiting for us upstairs. Wufei and Heero are out at the jeep, and Quatre's waiting for me at the front desk."     I was momentarily creeped out by the fact that Quatre could talk to Trowa in his head, but that thought was overruled by a more pressing one. "Food!" I jumped to my feet, gesturing for Trowa to do the same. "Well, come on, let's go!" I was suddenly in the mood for tacos as we headed up the stairs. I nudged Trowa, grinning. "Feel like celebrating your inner Mexican?" I asked.     Trowa stared at me blankly for a moment before smiling in return. "My inner Mexican? Are you trying to say you're hungry for tacos, of all things, Duo?"     I grimaced, clasping both hands to my stomach. "Aw, come on, man! I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday—and conflict always make me hungry. So, whadda ya say?"     He shook his head, continuing to smile. "I'm game."     "Yatta!" Grinning, I said, "Then you go make kissy faces at Bachan Quatre and I'll go work on Tweedle Suicide and Tweedle Homicide."     Trowa arched an eyebrow. "Kissy faces? And what's up with calling Quatre "Bachan," hmmm?"     "You'll have to ask him about that one."     "And do Heero and Wufei know about your pet names for them?"     I winked, bounding the rest of the way up the steps. "If they don't by now, there's no hope for them! 

* * *

It took a bit of work on my part, but I managed to convince everyone to drive to the nearest open Mexican place. It wasn't located in the best part of town, and it was rather small in size. The red and green paint on the sign was peeling in large chunks, and the neon sign advertising "Mama's Yosi's" kept flickering as if the socket connection were bad. Now most people would say that that doesn't exactly bode well for the food being served, but I know better. When you get food from the little Mexican restaurants, it's typically extremely authentic and extremely well made. 

    "Food, food, food, food, food, food, food!"     "Well, at least he's slow enough in his chanting that you can hear the commas in between," Heero muttered.     "And that's a _good_ thing?" Wufei asked.     I rounded on them, hands on my hips as I stood outside the door. "All right, both of you, knock it off. I'm hungry, I don't understand why you aren't, but since we're here already, we are going to eat, and we are going to enjoy ourselves. _Understand_?"     Quatre snickered, leaning heavily against Trowa. Our little blonde princeling was a lot more tired that he was letting on; anyone else looking at him would just think he was being overly friendly with his boyfriend, but I'd known Quatre too long to buy that. "Oh, come on, guys. Let's indulge Duo and get back to the safehouse. It's been a long day, and I'm sure tomorrow's going to be just as long."     "Well, this is all well and good, I suppose, but I'm still not sure why exactly I had to come along," Dorothy snapped. She was standing in the shadows, arms crossed over her stomach as she scowled. It was really tempting to say something about her face freezing that way if she held the expression too long, but I managed to restrain myself.     "Where else were you going to stay?" I said, opening the door and ushering everyone in.     Look at that, ladies and gentlemen: Duo Maxwell _does_ have manners.     "Anita's probably killing things indiscriminately right now—we pissed her off pretty good, ya know—and we're pretty much the only other choice you had, other than staying there," I continued. "Besides, we have a spare bedroom if Wufei moves his shit into Heero's and mine."     I ignored Wufei's grumbling about how his precious belongings weren't "shit". In my dictionary, if it wasn't edible and it had resale value of some sort, it was shit.     The lighting was low and somewhat cliché, candles flickering behind red-tinted glass globes and hanging from iron-filigree posts on the walls. We crowded around one of the corner tables, laughing as we noticed how we all were avoiding having our backs to the windows or doors.     "Hmmm, paranoid, boys?" Dorothy drawled, resting her chin her hand.     "Just a little bit," I said, holding my hands as far apart as they could get.     The woman who came out from the kitchens had skin darker than Wufei's, her salt-and-pepper hair piled untidily atop her head with smoky wisps escaping and framing her lined face. The apron secured around her ample middle was old and grease-spattered, and flour clung to her hands and cheeks. I even noticed bits of tomato and meat underneath her fingernails.     "What do a nice set of boys like you want at this hour? Eh? Ah, and the young miss as well." She smiled, flashing a set of somewhat yellowed teeth, but the light in her dark brown eyes made her seem years younger as she placed her hands on her hips and waited for us to answer.     It was odd, looking at someone so obviously having come from another part of the world at some point, and hearing them speak perfect Japanese. Hell, I think her Japanese was better than mine!     "We'll take anything and everything," I replied with a grin.     She arched an eyebrow. "Anything and everything, young sir? Ah, are you sure you can handle Mama Yosi's cookin'? It's good to be sure, but it'll bite you if you're not careful."     Just the way I liked it. "Yep!"     "All right. I'll make you my house specials, young sir. Six of you eating tonight?"     "No thank you," Dorothy said. "I'd love a glass of water though."     "Water for the young lady. I'll send out Matthias with your drink in a moment."     She turned and headed back towards the kitchens and I rubbed my mental hands together with glee. I opened my mouth to start chanting again, but found I couldn't—Heero had slapped his hand over my mouth and was glaring.     "No "food" chanting."     "Spoil sport," I managed to grumble around his hand, settling for pouting. Why was it that everyone was out to ruin my fun tonight?     I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. A kid about our age was walking towards us, a waiter's tray balanced on one hand with a red glass atop it: he must have been the Matthias Mama Yosi had spoken of. As he drew closer, I took back my age assessment; though he was on the small side, he was probably closer to Zechs in age. Thick black hair was pulled back at his neck, and sloe eyes looked at me impassively from a café au lait face.     "Someone requested water?"     His voice was soft and like liquid silk, the kind of husky voice that people would kill to perfect for its seductive value.     God, I needed to get this glamour removed soon, I thought, crossing my legs and hunching over the table. I was getting horny based on a total stranger's voice. …Not that it hadn't happened before, mind you, but it usually wasn't this bad.     "Water?" Dorothy said, raising her hand as she looked up from the table. "That would be—you!" She jumped up from the table, lunging forward to grab the guy's shirt collar. The tray went flying, water spilling everywhere as the glass clattered to the floor.     Instincts kicking in, I dove to the side as something solid and black came flying at me, hitting the chair I'd been in mere seconds before and knocking it over. When I looked up, I found a large black cat sitting atop it, lips peeled back in a snarl, tail lashing.     "What the fuck is going on?" I snapped, lunging to my feet. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass echoed through the room as I scrambled towards Wufei, who'd just landed a kick to another big cat that was making the creature shake its head. I had no idea where our assailants had come from, but my quick glance around the room showed that they'd shattered the front windows as they'd come in.     "I think the local pard's come to pay its respects," Wufei said, settling into a fighting stance.     A shriek of pain had me looking in the other direction. Trowa was in wolf form, locked tooth and claw with a true-coloured leopard. Quatre was muttering something, hands moving in rapid-fire sequence in front of him, and I almost thought I saw the shadows around him moving as well. Heero, true to his nature of 'nothing should be done the easy way,' was straddling a wereleopard and attempting to strangle it. I noticed that there were bleeding claw and teeth marks on his face and arms, but given the expression of almost euphoria on his face, I figured he hadn't noticed—and didn't care. Far be it for me to ruin my psychopathic love's fun.     Dorothy, however, wasn't doing quite so well—mostly because she'd been cornered by a cat and Matthias. There was blood on her hands and claws—claws?—and I could see her baring her teeth in warning—though she was in human form, she was reacting to the attack as a panther. Matthias had a set of bleeding scratches on his arm, but seemed to be relatively unaffected.     "Does Anita know you're here?" she spat, crouching down. "Does she know what you're doing?"     Matthias shrugged. "Our _nimir-ra_ knows what we do. Maybe not at this moment, but she knows."     "So much for the asylum Jean-Claude promised. What is it you want?"     He tipped his dark head to the side. "Want? Why, simply to talk, Dorothy. I heard that there was another here as well."     Not thinking, I reached for the Glock at my back. "Okay, whoever the hell you are, back away from Dorothy before I decide you'd look better with a bullet hole."     Turning, Matthias looked at me. I shuddered as he smiled, wondering what I'd let myself in for. "Ah, you must be the other. Duo Maxwell, I believe I heard your name was."     "So? Names are easy enough to come by."     That made him smile more. "Yes, but you're special from what we hear. A special kitty, with special kitty abilities."     What the hell had Anita _done_ to her pard to make this guy so nutty? "Maybe," I hedged, tipping my head to the side slightly. I couldn't afford to take my eyes completely off the guy, but I was trying to figure out where exactly everyone else was.     Quatre appeared to be so wrapped up in what he was doing that he hadn't noticed Trowa was being hedged in at his feet, moving closer and closer to where Quatre was doing his…whatever. I caught a flash of fire, an odour of sulphur, and saw Wufei sink his fingers into the throat of a wereleopard with a sickening squelch, followed by the scent of burning flesh and the pained screams of the creature.     "Duo!"     My finger clenched around the trigger by reflex when Dorothy screamed, firing the chambered round. I'd barely heard it hit flesh when I found myself on my back, a bleeding, snarling Matthias on top of me, trying to wrap clawed hands around my throat.     I lost the gun in the impact, grabbing Matthias' wrists to try and pry his hands away. His eyes were feral amber and slit-pupiled, teeth elongated like a cat's a he hissed obscenities.     "What makes you so much better than us, little _puta_?" he snapped, teeth narrowly missing my nose. "Why does she favour you?"     "Hell if I know!" I gasped, wriggling to try and dislodge him. I'd managed to keep him from choking off my air, but I wasn't sure how long I was going to hold out. This guy really wanted to kill me, answers or no.     Sounds were blending together, screams and shrieks, human and animal, pain and anger and animal lust. Smells were thick in my nose, blood and gunpowder, fear and adrenaline, char and sulphur and something that smelled primal and of the night.     I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to block things out, feeling overwhelmed. If I didn't do something, I was screwed.     And then I felt it: Matthias' hand in my hair, stroking it as his other hand with its feline nails bit into my skin. "Such pretty hair, such a pretty whore. Is this why? Is this why she chose you?" Blood welled from the nail pricks; I could feel it slowly seeping, slowly dripping. But that wasn't what I was focused on, that wasn't what had grabbed my attention and wouldn't let go. It was his stupid, fucking hand in my precious hair.     He—had—dared—to—touch—my—_hair_.     My eyes snapped open as I felt claws form from underneath my fingernails, like bone extensions sliding from skin to dig into the soft flesh of Matthias' wrists. I grinned as I dug through tendons and ligaments to bone, twisting them about my nails and tearing them with glee, pressing harder through muscles and nerves as he cried out in pain. "No-one touches my hair," I hissed, feeling teeth indent into my lip. His eyes were wide now, with pain, with surprise. He really hadn't expected me to fight back—to be _able_ to fight back.     I growled, feeling angry at his supposition. I wrenched as hard as I could, feeling as well as hearing the crack of bone beneath my hands. When Matthias began to scream, I bunched my knees up underneath me and shoved him off to the side, jumping to my feet.     Bone glistened in the candlelight, protruding from the inside of Matthias' arms. I pursed my lips, a little surprised; I hadn't exactly meant to do _that_, but… Oh well. Ignoring the bits of flesh stuck to my nails, I crouched over him, smiling as I smelled the fear rolling off him, licked my lips to see if I could taste it as well.     "Go home, Matthias," I said. I wasn't surprised to feel a tail lashing against my legs, though I briefly wondered if the hole in my pants was going to be permanent. It was a deceptively lazy twitching that only people who studied cats would know meant I was waiting to strike. I was sure that if I looked in a mirror I'd have the slightly-rounded ears to go with it, but that wasn't really my concern at the moment.     "Go home, Matthias, and tell Anita she needs to take better care of her pard."     "What would you know of our pard?" he spat, hatred clear in his guttural voice and in his eyes. "Anita is the best thing that ever happened to us, so how dare you say such a thing?"     I recoiled at that. If Anita was the best thing that had happened to them, then what had they been like before? I took another step back, feeling confused. Things were getting way out of hand… Why would Anita's pard attack me—hate me?     A cold wind began to stir, distracting me. "Duo, hurry!"     I looked over my shoulder at Quatre. A large, shadowy portal was behind him, Wufei disappearing through it. Sweat ran freely down Quatre's face, his brows drawn together in concentration; I noticed this his eyes were oddly layered in colour and glowing, but pushed that thought to the back of my mind. Heero, Dorothy, and Trowa were already gone, assumedly through the portal. "Come on, Duo, I can't hold it much longer!"     I nodded, turning back to Matthias. He'd managed to struggle to a crouched position, looking like he was about to launch himself at me for one last attack. "Sorry, I don't think so," I said with a smile, sweeping my leg around to crack him in the temple with my heel. I didn't wait for him to go down; I sprinted towards Quatre and threw myself through the portal.     The landing made me wince, hard wood slamming into my shoulder as I rolled to my feet. I didn't even have time to gain my bearings before I was wrapped in two pairs of arms that seemed determined to cut off my ability to breathe.     I almost laughed. After all of that, I was going to be hugged to death.     "Duo, you're an idiot."     "Thanks, 'Fei," I muttered into Heero's chest, smiling slightly.     "A really, really _big_ idiot."     "Thanks, Heero," I said, pulling back. I kissed them both, grinning when Wufei wrinkled his nose. "It's nice to know I'm loved."     Stepping back, I found Dorothy leaning heavily against the wall of our safehouse—apparently that was where Quatre's portal had taken us—one hand clasped to her upper arm where blood was slowly dripping free. Quatre had collapsed on the couch, one hand thrown over his eyes. Trowa was holding his other hand and speaking to him too softly for me to hear, but I could tell that he was worried.     I sighed. We looked like shit, to put it plainly. Quatre appeared to have escaped unbloody, but the rest of us were bleeding from various places. My shirt had been torn, as had Heero, Wufei's, and Trowa's. Tro's pants were looking a little worse for wear as well. Plus there was the fact that— I glanced over my shoulder and grimaced. Yep, my tail was still there, which meant there was still a hole in my pretty leather pants. Wufei even had soot streaking his cheek. I was curious as to how that had happened, but I wasn't in any hurry to ask right now. "Hey, Dorothy?"     She looked up at me, smiling faintly; it was nice to see she could tolerate pain so well. "Yes, oh mighty Duo?"     Rolling my eyes, I said, "There's antiseptic and gauze in the bathroom to your right if you want to get your arm cleaned up."     She inclined her head, smile becoming less sneering and more genuine. "Thanks, Duo. By the way, you're still fuzzy."     "Believe me, I know."     I felt a tug on my tail, and I turned with a snarl, grabbing the appendage away from Heero. "No playing with my tail," I said, smoothing the velvety fur.     Wufei snickered, casting a sly look at Heero. "Did you hear that? He won't let us play with his tail."     "You can play with my tail," Heero deadpanned.     I smacked them both. "'Fei, you're a dork. Let's get your stuff moved before you come up with any more awful hentai humour."     Heero, Wufei, and I quickly packed together Wufei's belongings and carted them to Heero's and my room. "I can't believe I'm going to have to live with a neat freak and a pig," Wufei muttered, glaring at my whirlwind mess and Heero's neat stacks of mission reports and clothing.     "Hey, watch the name calling, or you'll be sleeping alone," Heero said with a laugh.     "Yeah, what Tweedle Suicide said," I added with a grin, ducking to avoid the fist Heero had aimed my way.     We headed back towards the main room. I was being a pest, begging Heero for a piggy back ride and making faces at Wufei, when we heard a soft knock on the front door that made us pause in the alcove.     "Who on earth could be here?" Dorothy asked, poking her head out of the bathroom with a frown.     "Got me." I shrugged, looking at Wufei and Heero. Neither of them seemed to have an answer. I sighed and reached for the small of my back, grimacing as I found nothing and remembered that I'd lost my Glock in the fight at Mama Yosi's. I hated having to get replacement weapons.     "I've got it covered," Wufei said, giving me an understanding smile. "Go ahead and get the door."     "Yeah, but should I be opening the door looking like this?" I said, pointing at my head.     "You look fine to me." Heero leered at me.     I flipped him off. "Seriously, you guys."     "We can always explain it as an early Halloween gag," Wufei said. "So hurry it up."     This was one of those times when I wished that our door had one of those little peep holes, but, alas, we weren't that lucky. I stood to the right of the door, and opened it slowly, waiting a moment before peering out onto the landing.     Shinigami, I wish I hadn't looked.     Relena Darlian-Peacecraft stood just outside, a pleasant smile plastered on her innocently pretty face. She wasn't in pink this time, at least. I wasn't sure my sanity could have taken a Vision in Pink right now. Instead, she was wearing a rather nice looking periwinkle pantsuit, just a few shades lighter than her eyes. A cream-coloured purse hung off her shoulder, and I noticed that one hand kept hovering over the pocket.     "Why, hello, Ojousama!" I said, grinning so tightly that I thought my face was going to crack. Inside I was repeatedly muttering, Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!     She nodded in greeting. "Hello, Duo. Might I come inside?"     Okay, I was getting tired of feeling confused. She didn't even seemed fazed by the ears and twitching tail. And since when did Relena ask to come inside? She was supposed to ask for Heero, get told he wasn't there, and leave with a sad, wistful expression on her face. I really wish people would quit changing the rules of engagement on me!     "Um, yeah, sure. Come on in." I threw the door open, sweeping her a low and somewhat over-exaggerated bow. Hey, I can attempt pretend chivalry if I want.     "Thank you."     I felt myself frowning as I closed the door and watched her enter the living room. She hadn't even looked at Heero, who was still standing beside Wufei at the hallway entrance. She hadn't looked at Dorothy either, and Dorothy wasn't exactly easy to miss, even if you didn't know her.     Following her into the room, I saw that Trowa and Quatre were gone; I was hoping that Tro had taken the princeling and put him to bed.     "So, Ojousama, what's up?" I asked.     Relena removed the purse from her shoulder, clutching it in front of her. She turned to me, and I saw that she had one hand inside of it, as if she were about to pull something out to show me.     "You are Duo, correct?" she asked.     Not only did her words throw me off, but the way she phrased the question did too. I'd never heard Relena so…blank, so…emotionless, so…     How the fuck could she not know who I was?!     I took a closer look at her, and noticed that her pupils were mere pinpricks in her cornflower eyes, that her smile never wavered, that she never blinked. I took a step closer, slowly raising my hand. "What do you mean, Relena? You know I'm Duo—"     I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence; Relena yanked her hand out of the purse and pointed a small handgun at me, hand locked on her wrist in a perfect, unwavering firing pose.     It's weird, when you think about it, how something important, something earth-shaking, life-changing important, will play out in front of you like a slow-motion sports replay—how you seem to know exactly what's going to happen but are absolutely powerless to stop it.     I hate things like that.     The gun fired, a sharp retort that cracked into the silent room like lightning. I could only stare in disbelief, wondering if I'd somehow ended up in an alternate universe—I mean, Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, carrying a gun? Not only carrying a gun, but shooting at me? I think I would have laughed had I not been in shock. Someone yelled my name, and I felt a bemused smile cross my face, but still I couldn't move.     So Heero made me move.     When the impact of Heero's body slammed me into the wall, things sped up once again, sending the world crashing down around me. The breath was knocked from me, and as I gasped, I saw the bullet impact into Heero's shoulder, half-spinning him and sending him stumbling into Dorothy and Wufei.     Mere seconds later, Quatre came racing through the doorway, Trowa at his heels. "What the hell's going on?" he asked, glancing at all of us in turn. He looked half-awake, somewhat dishevelled, and completely pissed.     Relena was staring in disbelief at the gun in her hands, arms shaking so badly that there was absolutely no way she'd be able to fire a second round and hit her intended target. "Wh-where…where am I?" she asked, cornflower blue eyes wide as she looked up, blinking rapidly.     Wufei was fussing over Heero—well, as much as Wufei ever fusses, at least—examining the bullet wound. "You're in the living room of our safehouse, apparently out to kill someone," he snapped, looking up from Heero's shoulder long enough to glare.     Dorothy was too busy staring at Relena in surprise to be of any help—I think she was more in shock than I was—Heero and Wufei had devolved into quiet arguing, and Relena didn't have a clue. That meant that it was up to me to try and explain things, and I didn't really know much more than the others—not to mention that fact that breathing was still difficult; I'd have to remember to tell Heero to check the otherworldly strength next time he decided to shove me into a wall. I might be a Newtype wereleopard, but I had a feeling I was going to feel my pulled muscles in the morning.     I slumped down to the floor, drawing my knees up to my chest as I tried to breath normally again. "So is this the plasmababies, the vampires, Anita's fucked up pard, or the Sidhe?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I expected an answer or not; if I did, I wondered who I was expecting it to come from.     Relena blinked again, slowly shaking her head. "I…I don't know…" She turned to Dorothy, the gun finally clattering to the floor as her shaking hands refused to hold it any longer. "I…Dorothy?"     I winced at her tone, so lost, so afraid. Relena really was such an innocent person when you got right down to it. Oh, maybe not mentally—the girl probably had the tactical ability and ruthlessness of a four-star general if the situation called, and I didn't believe for a moment that she was as sexually innocent as everyone else seemed to think—but in her heart, Relena has that untarnished, ever-shining _goodness_ in her.     Sometimes I wistfully wish I could be the same. Not often mind you, and usually in very brief, very minute quantities, but sometimes…sometimes it would be nice to dream of sugar plum faeries rather than the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, you know?     Dorothy smiled, for once looking comforting rather than sneering; when I thought about it, the expression really didn't look that out of place on her face. She looked at Relena like that often, which made me smirk. Dorothy apparently had it bad for our little Sanq Kingdom princess.     "It's all right, Relena-sama. You'll be okay now," she murmured, slowly walking forward. It was kind of like watching someone try to approach a wild animal, trying to keep them from bolting.     She needn't have worried: as soon as Dorothy got within five feet of Relena, the princess was throwing herself at her and sobbing her eyes out.     I sighed, dropping my gaze to the gun. It was a rather small model, easy to hide in a lady's purse as Relena had. I crawled forward and popped the clip out, clearing the bullet from the chamber as well. Slipping all of the bullets from the clip and into my hand, I scowled as I noticed their odd colouring and the funny little stamp on the shells. "What exactly are these?"     "There's silver in the powder compound," Heero said with a hiss, batting Wufei's hand away. "These bullets were meant for either vampire or lycanthrope, but I'm betting it was the latter."     "Silver?"     "Lycanthropes and vampires are slower to heal from silver than any other metal," Dorothy said softly, arms wrapped around Relena as she cradled the sobbing girl to her. "Whoever sent her, whoever put her under geas, knew exactly who he was sending her after and what they were."     I threw my hands up. "I can't take this. I really can't. D'ya think OZ and Romefeller would get pissed if I ran out and started blowing up random shit to vent?"     "Maybe just a little," Heero said dryly.     "I mean, Anita decided to have split personality disorder, we got attacked by psycho panther boys while I was trying to get my tacos—which I _didn't_ get, and I'm still hungry, incidentally—and now Relena shows up under some wacky spell and tries to put a bullet in me yet ends up nailing Heero. This is getting fucking ridiculous!"     "I agree."     We all looked up at Quatre when he spoke, most of us startled by the hard edge in his voice. Quatre doesn't get that edge often, but when he does, we all listen; it's his 'I'm the commander and if you don't obey I'll flog you myself' voice, after all.     I've seen Quatre with a whip, by the way. He's quite good with the whole wrist action thing.     "Dorothy, why don't you take Relena to the spare bedroom and settle her in? I'll have Trowa bring by some spare blankets in a few minutes as well as some tea that should calm her and help her sleep. Heero, you should probably rest as well to heal that wound. Did it go completely through?"     Heero shook his head. "No, but my body will eject the bullet it as it heals. It's not a big worry right now."     "Right. Duo, Wufei—go ahead and do whatever, but you should probably rest as well. I imagine that Shinta will be calling in a few hours with information on meeting Miburou. Trowa and I will start on figuring out a few contingency plans in case anything else jumps up and bites us in the ass."     Dorothy nodded and led Relena off. Quatre and Trowa headed towards the kitchen while I dragged myself to my feet.     "You all right, Duo?" Heero asked.     I gave him a lopsided grin, arching an eyebrow. "Isn't that my line, Superman? What were you doing, shoving me out of the way like that?"     Heero gave me his 'Stupid Question' Look as a reply.     I stepped forward and tentatively put my arms around him. "You're okay, right?" I murmured, resting my cheek against the curve of his neck.     He hugged me in return, laughing. "Well, I've been shot before, _mon petit_," he reminded me with a teasing note. "And this wasn't that bad, really. The silver compound just makes it sting a bit more and heal slower. By this time tomorrow I won't even have a scar."     "Hmmm, if you say so." I turned my head and kissed his cheek, smiling when he turned his head just a little too late to catch my kiss on the lips. "As much as I'd love to, Heero, we do need to rest."     "Share a bed with me?"     My breath caught at the offer, heart racing. I knew he really meant just to sleep, and that was all I was up to anyway, given the abuses I'd put my body through, but it was still quite an exciting offer. "L-later," I said, cursing the slight stutter in my voice. Why was it that suave and sophisticated Duo gave way to shy and awkward Duo around Heero and Wufei, hmmm?     Oh well.     "We'll come and tuck you in in a bit," Wufei added. He kissed Heero's cheek as well, something I hadn't seen him do before yet seemed to look so right, then caught my hand. "Let's help the Devious Duo plot for a bit."     "Okay." I smiled at Heero again, covering up my weird nervousness by poking him on the nose. "G'night, Heero-_liebchen_."     Heero blinked. "_Liebchen_? Since when do you know German?"     I grinned, tossing over my shoulder. "Everyone needs a hobby. You know French, I know German."     "But what's it mean?" I heard him mutter as he disappeared around the corner, no doubt with eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed in a half-frown.     "So what _does_ it mean, Duo?" Wufei asked, yanking me down into his lap when he'd taken a seat on the couch.     "It means 'darling,'" I said with a snicker.     "Do you actually know German or just the one word?"     "I know enough to get me by. I'm sure I fuck up tenses and possessives on a regular basis, but I can understand and be understood. I can actually order beer in about, oh, six languages, you know."     Wufei laughed, wrapping his arms around me. I sighed, rubbing my cheek against his as I snuggled down; Wufei was a really nice snuggler, despite his standoffish exterior. The silent minutes ticked by, and I was content to let them go, focused on listening to the sounds of my friends—my family—move about the house on their business. Quatre came into the room after a bit, collapsing onto the other couch with a loud sigh. I cast him a sympathetic glance when I noticed the way he had his eyes scrunched tight, rubbing at his temples. He had another one of his Monster Migraines, and the only thing that got rid of them was about ten hours of sleep.     I couldn't see Quatre finding time to sleep ten hours any time soon.     "I'm not sure I like the way this is turning out," I murmured, shrugging deeper into Wufei's embrace. "Anita had promised that she could protect us, but I think her little pet pard proved her a liar."     "We could take them out easily, you know," he said against my ear, kissing me softly. His finger slowly massaged my scalp, slipping through my hair, trailing over my ears. It felt a little odd to realise that my ears were placed a bit higher on my head in this weird half-and-half form, but it still seemed…right.     "Nah, I think I already pissed off Anita enough for one day—especially when she sees what I did to Matthias, and what the rest of you did to the others. But if they're still giving us problems later…"     "All bets are off?"     I grinned, eyes narrowing. "All bets are off."     There was a sound like tinkling bells mere seconds later, accompanied by the feel of winter wind's kiss. I looked up as Quatre uttered a rather nasty expletive, dashing for the antique mirror hanging on the wall. I arched an eyebrow, glancing at Wufei. Wufei shrugged, however, and gestured for us to get up and investigate.     Quatre laid his fingertips against the glass, leaning forward. "Who summons the mirror?"     I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard Quatre sound so bitchy. I looked over his shoulder, wondering what was going on.     "Greetings, Quatre Raberba Winner, Prince of Darkness, Light, and the Astral Realm. Greetings, Prince of the Darkling Throng, from Morag, Princess of Ice, Princess of the Darkling Throng."     Quatre winced, drawing his fingers across the surface of the mirror. It rippled like water, giving way to an image. A petite, shiningly pale woman was revealed, draped in swaths of green and gold silk. I could see two silhouettes behind her, but they were too far in shadow for me to make out features. Morag leaned forward, silver-white hair spilling over her shoulders to fall far below what was revealed by the mirror. I couldn't help but grin, thinking, And Heero complains about _my_ hair length. Smiling, she winked at Quatre, and I realised that her eyes were a disturbing tri-coloured green. "Hello, Quatre. How've you been?"     Sighing, Quatre stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's this all about, Morag? You know that I'm not to be contacted like this."     Morag snorted. "As if I had a choice in the matter. When the Queen of Flesh and Blood tells you to do something, you do it without question. I wasn't going to remind her of her own command when she was in such a snit. She's pregnant, you know."     Quatre's lips quirked. "No, I didn't know, but that explains things a bit. So, why did she want you to contact me?"     Sitting up a bit straighter, Morag laced her hands together in her lap—it reminded me of someone who hates officialness getting all official. "The Queen of Flesh and Blood requests that the Prince of Darkness, Light, and the Astral Realm escort the sidhe Shinta, last of the first Gods of War, to the court of the Darkling Throng. She further requests the presence of the prince's friends, as well as information on Princess Relena, Maiden of Peace. Her presence in the minds of the Darkling Throng went missing a few days ago."     I didn't exactly understand everything that was going on, but I knew enough myths to know that the Darkling Throng was the Unseelie Court—hey, it was the only way I'd been able to even marginally follow the conversation earlier. "Just out of curiosity, why would the Unseelie Court care about Relena-san?"     Morag blinked; she probably couldn't see me standing behind Quatre, so I imagined the disembodied voice was a bit disturbing. "Why, because she's a member of the Darkling Throng, of course. The fact that our Maiden of Peace simply disappeared like that and has evaded the search of even the Queen's Darkness and Killing Frost has caused her quite a headache. I feel sorry for Morgead; he's had to listen to her for the past hour while I've been trying to contact you."     Relena Darlian-Peacecraft was a maiden of the Darkling Throng? I couldn't help but snicker at the imagery; a polite "princess" who was considered all sunshine, goodness, and all things innocent was a member of the Unseelie Court. All in all, I considered it ironic justice.     "I don't feel too sorry for Morgead; he's enough like his mother that it's pretty much like listening to himself. Anyway, I have a feeling that the Shining Court is involved, Morag," Quatre said. "We currently have Relena in custody, if you wish to pass the news on to the Queen. We can bring her, as well as all the information we have with us to the Underhill."     "How long will it take you to get here?"     "Hmmm, we should be there by this time tomorrow night. We have some things to finish here, and it may take some persuading to bring Shinta with us. I'll call when I know our arrival time for sure."     "You do that, Quatre." Morag smiled, settling back down into the opulent cushions. "I shall be awaiting your call, then. Farewell."     "Farewell."     The image in the mirror faded out, until all that was left was Quatre's own reflection, as well as the fainter reflection of Wufei and myself. "So, what the hell was that all about?" I asked cheerfully. Hey, Quatre's shoulders were drooped and he was exuding enough depressive thoughts for all of OZ. Since there was no way on God's green earth that Wufei was going to manage to be cheerful, I figured that left the job up to me.     Quatre turned, smiling faintly as I made a face at him, leaning heavily against the dresser. "I don't really know, but it looks like I need to get to work. Planning a trip to North America like this…" He shook his head, sighing. "But, the Queen of Flesh and Blood doesn't really care about such petty things—especially not when she's pregnant. I heard enough horror stories in my few times at Court to know that Queen Meredith is not one to piss off when she's expecting."     I frowned. "North America? Anita and Jean-Claude are going to be pissed if we leave suddenly. Jean-Claude will probably be especially pissed if we take Shinta with us." The part I left unsaid was that it would probably be a good idea if we left for a few days. The way things had gone with Anita in the last day didn't bode well at the moment; maybe if we left for a few days then things would quiet down.     "We probably won't be gone for too long. I'm sure the Queen has a good reason for wanting to see Shinta, and I can understand her desire to have Relena returned. There's no telling what it was that the Shining Court's operatives did to her to gain control of her like that. Trying to have the Maiden of Peace injure someone, even if it was only to incapacitate them rather than kill them…"     I leaned against Wufei, thinking out loud. "Well, you know that Dorothy's going to come; there's no way she's going to leave Relena's side now. If you're taking Shinta, I'm going, which means that Wufei and Heero are going. If you're going, that means that Tro's going. That's eight of us right there."     "Yes, I know. And once we tell Jean-Claude where we're headed, he's probably going to want to send at least one of his people with us to parley for help against the uprising of the Plasmababies, the rogue vampires, and the Seelie Court."     "You know, stringing those three things together in the same sentence seems really odd. I mean, the first two make a bit of sense, but I can't for the life of me figure out where the Seelie Court fits in in all of this."     Quatre's head jerked up, aqua eyes boring into mine; it was then that I realised his eyes were the same triple-tone that Morag's had been. "I can," he said grimly. "Do you remember what Jean-Claude was saying when we met right after the Miburou incident, about an incident between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts occurring back in the early twenty-first century?"     "Vaguely. My stomach was gnawing at my back bone at the time, so I was kind of preoccupied."     "I understand completely," he said dryly. "Anyway, during that time, the current king of the Shining Court went a bit…nutty and started to do some really bad things, things that were blamed on the Darkling Throng. It was a bid to try and return Meredith to the Shining Court; however, she had already been declared co-heir to the throne of the Darkling Throng. Eventually, she got pregnant with Morag and was declared Queen."     "So you think it's another fucked up mess like that?"     Quatre shrugged. "I haven't a clue, actually. It's simply speculation based on past events. All I'm saying is that there's precedence for the Shining Court causing problems like this for the Darkling Throng. Also, Ellinea is a member of the Shining Court, so my theory isn't all that wild."     I sighed in defeat. "You're right. But I'm too fucking tired to eat, let alone think, so I'm going to call it a night—well, an early morning."     "That's probably a good idea. Good night, Duo, Wufei."     Quatre turned and wobbled from the room; Trowa appeared like a ghost at his side, slinging an arm around his waist and leading him away.     "He really pushed himself tonight."     Wufei nodded, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together as we headed for our own bed. "Yes, he did. But Trowa will make sure that he gets rest when he can, that he doesn't push himself beyond the point of recovery."     "You're right."     Pausing in the doorway, Wufei flashed me a wolfish smile. "Of course I'm right. I'm always right, Duo. It's taken you this long to realise that?"     I laughed, shoving him towards the bed, shucking clothes as I headed for my bag. "Oh, get over yourself, 'Fei." I pulled a clean t-shirt over my head and a pair of boxer shorts. Rummaging around, I managed to find a scrunchie—it was lime green and I briefly wondered where the hell I'd gotten it—and pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail.     Wufei had changed into sweats and a tanktop, as per usual, and was looking down at Heero, arms crossed over his chest. "How can he look so innocent in his sleep?" he asked with a sigh.     "I've been asking that question for two years," I said with a laugh, joining him at Heero-gazing.     Heero was curled over onto his side, bare-chested with the blanket barely covering his waist. One fist was pressed up to his mouth, the other reaching across the bed.     "Qui' starin' at me an' get in here," he muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes.     Wufei and I shared a grin and pounced, giggling like girls as we poked and prodded and tickled until we'd laughed ourselves breathless. I found myself sandwiched between them eventually, Wufei's nose at the back of my neck, his hands on my waist, Heero's forehead against mine, hand clasped around my tail.     "Hey, no tail grabbing," I murmured, eyes fluttering shut as I yawned.     "My tail," Heero whispered.     Sleep was claiming me, my thoughts becoming clumsy and disjointed. I knew there had been something wrong with Heero's statement, something that I should say something about, but I couldn't figure out what it was.     In my dreams, I remembered.     It's _my_ tail. 

* * *

Whee! Welcome to Mina's Wacky End Notes. Yes, Part 6 seemed to end abruptly. That's because about eight pages became Part 7. This part was waaay too long considering everything that happened. 

    There were some things mentioned in Pt. 6 that might have seemed odd, either plot changes or character changes that didn't quite mesh. I've revamped the earlier parts to fix this (hopefully), so it's kind of like an _updated_ Blood Dance.     For people wondering how much more I have to write before this fic is done, I'm estimating another five to six parts. I owe Ten lots of 1/2/5 funness (that's my new word, by the way) and Barbara lots of stuff in general.     In Pt. 7, we have the return of Saitou and we find out about the plasmababies. Then we're whisked off to NA for fun with the Darkling Throng. Dorothy gets to slap Zechs around, Duo jumps a few bishie Sidhe and gets into a catfight with Morgead, Relena says a naughty word and reveals shocking information, and Wufei and Heero finally get some action. Yay! 

[Part 7] 


	7. Twilight Tarantella A Blood Dance side ...

**Twilight Tarantella —**  
A _Blood Dance_ side story  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Gundam Wing_ apply. _Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter_ and all subsequent characters belong to Laurell K. Hamilton, as do the characters and plot from _Caress of Twilight_ et al. _Blood Dance_, however, belongs to me—frightening, isn't it? 

Warnings: Language, shounen ai/yaoi (limey), some flashback stuff, lots of potentially bastardised character play. 

Author's Note: Yeah, I know these things are supposed to go at the end and stuff, but I wanted to put it up front to explain things a little. I've had a lot of requests for some Quatre/Trowa moments, but they're really hard to work in when _Blood Dance_ is told from Duo's point of view. However, I felt that there were some parts of _Blood Dance_ that could use a little clarification, and Quatre is the perfect person to do that. Also, this gives me a chance to play with Quatre and Trowa, who are two of my favourite characters to explore after having read the manga—and seeing as how they're very under appreciated in the _GW_ fandom, this is my chance to represent them well. 

_Twilight Tarantella_ starts out before _Blood Dance_ actually begins, then shifts to where Part 6 ends. It may be a little confusing at first, but you're all bright people—I think you'll catch on quick. Reading _Blood Dance_ isn't necessary, but it would probably clear quite a few things up. 

* * *

**[Gracelessness]**

Duo is so clueless some days that it frightens me.  
    Oh, I know I'm not being fair in saying that. He's really quite intelligent, though he tries hard to make us think otherwise. 'Look at me, I'm a clown,' he tries to say, laughing and smiling and making an ass out of himself. It makes me want to shake him by the shoulders and say 'Duo, Trowa's the one employed by the circus, not you.'  
    Not that he's laughing or smiling right now. The last time I looked in on him, he was thoroughly sedated in bed. I was hoping the sleeping draught would keep him unconscious for at least another six hours; that would give Wufei plenty of time to arrive.  
    Really, though, who would have thought that idiot was dumb enough to try and commit suicide without knowing all the facts? Did he really think the rest of us so callous that if Heero really were dead we wouldn't mourn him? I swear, that American is…is… Well, I can't think of a word to describe him at the moment, but if I ever do, he'll be the biggest one I know.  
    I looked up from contemplating my hands as I heard the soft padding of bare feet across the floor. Trowa gave me a small smile, hands in his pockets as he paused in the doorway. "What?" I asked, arching an eyebrow as he continued to just stand there and look at me.  
    "Just admiring the…view," he said loftily, looking up towards the ceiling as he said the last word.  
    I looked up, noting the cracks in the ceiling, the peeling layers of paint. Really, who painted a ceiling neon orange, I wondered. "Yes, it's quite…interesting." Interesting truly wasn't the word for it—horrendous, outrageous, and vomitous fit much better—but such vague commentary was more likely to get a humorous reply from Trowa than specific adjectives would. And, despite the fact that I'd had a wonderful bout of anger and frustration going only a few moments ago, I was willing to let Trowa amuse and distract me.  
    "Well, I thought so—a bit like that finger painting with hamburger condiments that Wufei and Heero did about a month ago after dinner."  
    I laughed, shaking my head. Trowa really has an odd sense of humour, but his attempt at distracting me had worked. "All right, my wolf, I'll quit brooding."  
    "Good." He moved the rest of the way towards my chair, leaning over the edge to nuzzle against my cheek. I sighed, closing my eyes; I would stay like this forever if I could, his skin against mine, warm breath ghosting in my ear, the scent of pine and gunpowder overwhelming in my nose, his lean, silken-steel, incredibly _flexible_ body exuding warm and barely contained frenetic energy… Verily, I hadn't gone looking for a lifemate when I'd embarked to fight in this chaotic mess of a war, but I wasn't going to complain that I had found one—and a very sexy one, at that.  
    Trowa chuckled, fingers trailing through my hair, down my neck, sliding over my bared arms. "And what are you thinking about now, my faerie princeling?"  
    "Hmmm, I'm…" I couldn't help but snicker a bit evilly as my thoughts turned to a slightly kinkier, slightly more lust-over-love bend. "Well, currently I'm imagining you naked on our bed, tied spread-eagled as I lick my way over every inch of your lovely, sweat-dewed skin."  
    Growling, Trowa leaned in and nipped at my neck. I giggled, wrapping my arms around him and hauling him into the chair with me. "I like the way you think," he said, voice dark and husky.  
    I shivered, tipping my head so that I could view his eyes, pools of midnight pine barely visible through half-mast lashes. "So do I," I murmured, cupping one hand behind his head as closed the distance between us.  
    Mouth on mouth contact is a little-practised art form. It's surprising—and sad—how under appreciated kissing is. Really, though, you can get some of the most _wonderful_ reactions from a body, simply by well-applied use of lips, teeth, or tongue.  
    Trowa was _definitely_ well practised with his lips. All it takes is a few well-placed nibbles on my lower lip, a teasing trace of tongue, and I'd be completely willing to live on the oxygen supplied his mouth for the rest of my life.  
    I was all warm and tingly by the time we parted, fingers tracing over the back of Trowa's neck. I could feel my wolf's contentment as well, a lovely feeling of warmth and love that was settled at the back of my head. Until I'd met Trowa and the others, I'd cursed the gifts my mother had bestowed upon me. Oh, I'd trained them—I would have been a complete fool not to—but I cursed them with every fibre of my being. Now, though… Now that I have Trowa to share my head and heart and body with, I see them as the "gifts" that they are.  
    "Shall we go to bed?"  
    Mmmm, bed sounded delightful. "Sure. Let me go and check on Duo first and leave a note for Wufei, since he'll probably roar in sometime early this morning."  
    "You're right." Trowa got up from my lap, stretching his arms over his head. I took a moment to drool in my head as he revealed a lovely line of amber flesh for my viewing pleasure. Really, if Duo wasn't such a pressing and important matter, I would be tempted to jump Trowa right then and there.  
    Noticing the direction my thoughts had no doubt taken—and where my line of vision was firmly grounded—Trowa laughed and wrapped a hand around my wrist, hauling me to my feet. "Go and take care of Duo, love; I'll be waiting for you."  
    And with that, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and padded from the room.  
    Sighing, I followed in his footsteps, heading down the hallway towards the bedroom next to ours. Pushing the door open, I couldn't help the clenching I felt in my heart when I viewed the bed's lone occupant.  
    Duo had rolled over sometime during the last hour, and his arms with their vermilion stained bandages were crisscrossed next to his face. It was frightening how closely his skin pallor matched the original shade of the bandages.  
    I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry again or beat my unconscious friend to consciousness. I was still so, so angry with him for pulling this stunt on me—on us. When I'd called Wufei an hour ago, he'd told me that he was dropping everything to come over. I didn't need him to be in the same room to sense the fear and anger he was feeling at that moment.  
    Healing Duo as much as I had had taken quite a bit of energy from me. He was going to have to rely on conventional healing methods for a day or two, since it would be at least that long before I'd be up to anything else. Reaching his bedside, I ran my fingers over his brow, grimacing at the chilly, clammy feel that met my touch. I reached for the cloth I'd placed on the table next to the bed, wiping his forehead and face. I ran my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his face; despite the sleeping draught I'd given him, his features were still lined with pain.  
    "Oh, Duo…" Even in his unconscious state I could sense the devastated waves of loss he was feeling, and like pitch they coated and clung to my sense of empathy. He felt so completely and utterly betrayed by Heero's "death," so completely and utterly alone…  
    "When you wake up, you stupid American, I'm going to kiss you." My voice was shaking along with my hand as I continued to smooth his hair away. "And then I'm going to kick your ass in a way that will make Heero and Wufei's tempers seem like the ice age. And then…" My voice dropped to a mere whisper as I ghosted my fingers along his blue-tinged lips, using every ounce of my empathy to try and convey to him a will to live. "And then I'm going to hug you and tell you how much you are loved and wanted, so that you'll never do anything like this ever again."  
    I smiled bitterly as a tear splashed onto my hand; traitorous things had gotten away from me once again. "Sleep, Duo, and heal. We all want you to return to us."  
    Standing up straight, I scrubbed at my eyes. I turned to the table and grabbed the pen and paper I'd placed there earlier, scribbling a hasty note to Wufei to wake me should anything change in Duo's condition. On my way out, I tacked it to the door, closing it so that only a crack of light would be visible in the room.  
    I shuffled to my room, opening and closing the door with a deep sigh—I seem to be doing a lot of sighing tonight, though it's not that unexpected. Trowa's sitting on the bed, shirtless, just _looking_ at me.  
    My walls crumbled, my emotions pouring forth before I could stop them, and I threw myself at my lover, sobbing. I feel so young when this happens, like a child whose been frightened by a night terror they can't explain.  
    Trowa doesn't ask—he doesn't have to ask, though. He simply holds me, murmuring endearments and running his hands across my back in soothing motions as I cry and cry and cry.   
    I cried myself to sleep, that night.  


* * *

Wufei was trying so hard to help Duo heal, but the stupid American just wasn't responding. No wonder Heero called him "baka" so often—and, no, right now I don't care if it was a term of endearment. Duo was refusing each and every offer we have made to help him. He'd lost quite a bit of weight, resembling something like a corpse in priest's clothing at the moment. I was so frustrated I felt like screaming, but I knew that wouldn't really accomplish anything. Well, not anything positive, at least.  


    I was leaning in against the mouth of the hallway, watching my two current targets sit together on the couch. It seemed innocuous enough, if one didn't know the two people in question; Wufei had one arm around Duo's shoulders while the braided American was crying softly into his chest. I couldn't hear what was being said, not at this distance, but I could get the gist of it simply using my empathy. Duo was still completely distraught and Wufei was rapidly becoming frustrated.  
    Some days, I think that we should have told Duo the truth. Of us all, he's the only one who doesn't know the reality of what we are, of what _he_ is. We'd all hoped, though, that our other lives wouldn't find us until after the war. I know that I had hoped not to deal with my _other_ relatives until after the war, but even the best laid of plans go astray when that bitch known as Reality decides to make her presence known.  
    Whoever it was that said the Faerie are hard to find obviously wasn't trying to avoid them.     The Unseelie Court is a tricky body of government. All I can say is that they're saner than the Seelie Court, but that's not exactly saying a lot. And when your aunt is the Queen of Flesh and Blood of the Darkling Throng, things can get a bit…crazy.  
    The Queen's two children, Morag and Morgead, were very different in looks and temperament. Morag, as the eldest, had much of her mother's beauty, but it was laced with the colouring of her father, Frost. She was also possessed of his cold pragmatism, a fact that made her well liked by the court followers.  
    Morgead was an entirely other story. His hair a red that was so dark it was almost black, his eyes and skin as dark as Doyle's, there were many who were put off by his abrasive manners and his spitfire temperament. I didn't really blame him for being the way he was (being slender and effeminate when one was a warrior was a decidedly disturbing fact), but it made him a pain in the ass to deal with. And, for some reason, the Queen decided she was going to have Morgead be my contact.  
    Yay for me.  
    The mirror chimed as I was on my way back from the bathroom, a decidedly horrendous clanging—like a cross between a Buddhist temple bell and a fork across a plate—that told me almost immediately that my caller wasn't Morag or the Queen. Sighing, I signalled for Trowa to keep Duo away and disappeared into the bedroom.  
    The chiming occurred again, but I refused to run. I grabbed the room's lone chair and drug it to the dresser, settling myself down before placing my fingertips on the mirror's surface. "Who summons the mirror?"  
    "Greetings to Quatre Raberba Winner, Prince of Darkness, Light, and the Astral Realm. Greetings, Prince of the Darkling Throng, from Morgead, Prince of Blood and Darkness, Prince of the Darkling Throng."  
    I rolled my eyes, tracing my fingers over the mirror. I watched it ripple like disturbed water, settling to reveal a pissy-looking Morgead, lips twisted into a scowl that even Heero would have been hard pressed to beat. "Could you possibly sound any happier, Morgead?"  
    "Oh, shove it," Morgead snarled, eyes narrowing. "I'm not exactly pleased about being your liaison, cousin."  
    "I'm not exactly pleased about you being my liaison either…cousin." I smiled, enjoying the look of anger that crossed his face. "So, why are you calling?"   
    "The dhampile…you wanted to know where he was. Doyle and Frost found him about half an hour ago, just south of the base. He's mostly healed up, but Frost estimates it will be another day or two before he's completely healed—and the gods alone know when he'll wake from the coma."   
    Chewing my lip, I thought through our timetable. Thanks to the "negotiations" that White Fang and the Romefeller Foundation were currently engaged in, all Gundam activities had been halted for the time being. If Wufei could keep Duo occupied, than Trowa and I would have plenty of time to fly to North America and retrieve Heero's body.  
    "Please ask Doyle to place a guard at the cave," I said, drumming my fingers on the dresser top. "Trowa and I should be there tomorrow to pick up our friend."  
    Morgead turned his head, gesturing with a black-leather clad hand to someone that I couldn't see. When he turned back, he began to yank on the thick red braid that trailed over his shoulder. "You're asking a lot from us. We're not as welcome in the mortal world as we once were."  
    "You think I don't know that?"  
    He sighed, muttering something that sounded like an expletive. "It'll be taken care of. We'll meet you tomorrow at twilight at the entrance to the Underhill with your friend. Tell your wolf I said hello."  
    And then Morgead was gone, leaving me to sigh at my own reflection. So, Heero had finally been found. Well, that was one less worry I had to deal with.  
    The door creaked open, Trowa peering around. "Good news?"  
    I nodded. "They found him. We can pick him up tomorrow at dusk."  
    Trowa smiled faintly. "Twilight rendezvous with the Twilight Court."  
    I smiled in return. "As if we'd do it any other way."  
    He came fully into the room, closing the door behind him. "Will you tell them?"  
    "Wufei, yes. He'd figure that something was up anyway, demon-tied as he is. Duo…" I sighed, rubbing at my eyes. "I think he's better off not knowing for now. Wufei's been trying so hard to get him to respond, but it hasn't been going well at all."   
    "I noticed," Trowa remarked. He placed a hand on my head, fingers drifting through my hair. "I also noticed…" He sighed, fingers pausing at the nape of my neck. "I also noticed the thread between them, Quatre."  
    I winced at his cold tone, tensing. "It wasn't supposed to—"   
    "Wasn't supposed to what, Quatre? I know that they couldn't have done it alone, and there's no way that Duo could have consented considering the fact that he still doesn't know the truth. You had to have helped them with it."   
    I stood up and pulled away from him, walking towards the bed. "They did it for him, Trowa. He didn't know—_couldn't_ know, at the time—what we all were, what might be looking for us. How was he supposed to protect himself if the Shadowkind came looking for him? They had to have some way of knowing if he was in trouble."  
    "And so you helped them. Blood and flesh tied, mind and soul bound."   
    "It's not…" I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I knew what I'd done was highly unethical, especially in the eyes of someone like Trowa, who'd been abused so often with similar bonds, though of lower strength. "I know you don't believe me, but it's different. Yes, I performed the ceremony. I was the one who got Duo's blood and hair for the binding. But you know as well as I do that neither Heero or Wufei would ever abuse that bond. They—"     "—love him. Yes, I know that. But is it fair to Duo that both of them have equal claim and equal desire for him? He doesn't even realise that Wufei cares for him as anything other than a friend."  
    I spun on my heel to face him, a sliver of anger driving through my guilt. "I know that!" I hissed. "But what's done is done, and even I cannot undo such a spell. And I carry enough guilt over what I've done without you adding to its weight, wolf."   
    We glared at each other, and I could see the golden glow of the wolf swimming behind the dark green of his eyes. I refused to give to him, though, no matter how much I hated it when we fought. It had been for Duo's safety that I had helped Heero and Wufei bind themselves to him. My American-descended friend often had little care for himself and wound up in rather sticky situations.  
    Trowa finally looked away with a growl. "Stubborn."   
    I lifted my chin. "Only because I have to be. Duo needed to be protected, and it was the only thorough safeguard. Even my magics can't follow him everywhere."  
    When he looked back at me, my empathy was overwhelmed, causing my knees to give way and send me tumbling to the floor. I gasped, fingers scrabbling over the worn flooring, face pressed into the wood grain until I could feel each individual peak and valley.  
    "I followed you when others would not," he said softly. "I loved you when others pushed you away. I excepted your bond when others offered you only loneliness."   
    The tears leaked down my cheeks unbidden, and no force of will could stop them. "I…I know."     "I became yours, Quatre, of my own free will. What you did to Duo was wrong."  
    Gods and goddesses, I hated how our bond increased the sensitivity of my empathy! He was manipulating me and he knew it. "I know."   
    "And you still say that you won't undo it?"   
    I gasped again, pushing myself into a somewhat upright position so that I could glare at him. My arms trembled with the effort, but I managed to give him a feral grin. "Of course, you ass. Won't—and can't. I meant what I said."  
    He sighed, moving to sit on the bed. "Well, at least you're consistent."  
    The press of emotions cut off as thoroughly and completely as if a door had been closed, and I slumped back down to the floor with a sigh. "I hate it when you do that."  
    "As I hate it when you're a sneaky, underhanded little faerie princeling—even when your heart was in the right place."   
    I began to laugh, ignoring the musty smell of the flooring. "Gods and goddesses! I swear, even when I'm doing the only thing in my power I can think of, I'm fucking up somewhere."  
    "Quatre, language."   
    I ignored his soft reprimand, shakily drawing myself to my feet. I clenched my jaw as I looked at him, looked at the young man I had chosen to bind my immortal life to, the one that I loved so desperately and yet at times hated with a passion that frightened me, for he was the only one who had ever made me feel such a gamut of emotions. "If you care for Duo in the least, then cease this guilt trip you wish to place upon me. We have more important things to do now than play such petty games."  
    "Petty games, my princeling?"  
    "Yes, petty games, my wolf. Tonight you have reminded me of all the reasons that I love and hate you—and of all the reasons that I need you as desperately as I need air. Don't make me remind you of the same."   
    Power games. Dominance. Every species has its little eccentricities, but the underlying basis of the game is the same: Who will be alpha. Though Trowa had the power to be an alpha in his own right, my magics dimmed his power to that of a mere lamp-flicker—a fact which he knew quite well. _I_ was the alpha in our relationship; _I_ was the one who fought, who protected, who maintained. I was the one with the power, and just as any challenged wolf would do, I kept my posture erect, my stance ready for a fight, and I bared my teeth—physically and magically—in anticipation.  
    "Well, my wolf? What shall it be? Shall we fight again, here an now, or shall we acknowledge where we stand and move forward?"   
    He shifted from foot to foot, green melding with amber as his indecision became apparent. I balled my hands into fists and strode forward, reaching up to lace my hand in his hair and none too gently pull his face down to mine. "What shall it be, Trowa? I know that you're disappointed in me, that you don't trust me—and believe me, the second hurts much worst than the first—but we—don't—have—_time_."  
    My breath was coming in fast, shallow pants, fingers trembling as I brought up my other hand to capture Trowa's face; beloved face, with its dark soulful eyes that speak volumes even when his honeyed voice is silent.  
    I kissed him—hard, hungry, angry. I wanted his submission, if not in words, then in actions.   
    I coaxed him—nipping teeth, questing lips, lapping tongue. _Yield_, I thought, drawing my hands down his neck, feeling him tremble with a fine shiver.   
    I forced him—dexterous hands, searching fingers, eager libido. Clothes fell, words forgotten as I backed him towards the bed, body expressing my emotions as clearly as empathy.  
    I loved him—sweat-dewed, sliding skin, forceful take and give. Neither of us were quiet, voices shouting, growling in passion, in anger.  
    I claimed him—mind, body, soul. He was mine even as I was his, and the reminder of that sent me over the edge.  
    I collapsed atop Trowa, my limbs trembling, breath gusting over his neck. Our fingers were twined, and shakily I brought them to my mouth, kissing each fingertip before drawing them to my chest. I sat up slightly, gazing at my lover, whose eyes were completely glazed with pine forested-darkness. Always it was this fast-paced dance between us, this push and pull, a constant winding-up until one or the other snapped and brought the motions to a stuttering, clattering halt. And, sadly, neither of us were very good at it, for our steps were awkward and jerky—a very disjointed and inelegant dance.  
    But in the dark…  
    In the dark, all things look the same.  
    I closed my eyes, willing the darkness to fill the room. When I opened them, the lights were off, and the only brightness came from the moiré of the night sky that filtered through our window. Always Trowa was beautiful, my reminder of the faerie ties to the earth with ever action he made, every breath he took. But in the starlight he was…indescribable.  
    "_Je t'aime_."   
    His whispered words reached my ears, eliciting a sigh. "And I, you."  
    And there were no more words that night, no more anger, no more questions. There was only me and my wolf, and the love that we shared.  
    Everything else could wait. Everything.  


* * *

**[Elegance]**

We haven't danced in months.  


    I don't mean literally danced—well, not really. I refer to that odd disjointed set of movements that Trowa and I once regularly engaged in, verbally, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Since Heero's return…things have been different. Maybe it was that last fight, that last struggle between us. I feel a peace now that I've never felt before.  
    "Thinking again? Quatre, you're supposed to be sleeping."   
    I smiled, looking up at his gentle chiding. It was true that I needed sleep, for the amount of power I'd used tonight was quite large. Combined with having to talk to Morag… But I couldn't sleep; my mind was too busy to settle down, rampant with too many thoughts to be contained even by Morpheus' power. "Physically I'm exhausted, but I can't seem to sleep just yet."  
    "I see." He sat beside me on the bed, pillowing his chin on my shoulder to look at what I'd been reading. "A diary, my princeling? I didn't know you kept such a thing."   
    I shrugged, laughing as he shot me a disgusted look for disturbing his position. "It's a recent thing. I started it a few months ago. I find it…interesting to see how far we've come in such a short amount of time."  
    He smiled. "We have come a long way, haven't we?"  
    Closing the journal, I set it on the nightstand, adjusting my body so that we lay side by side facing each other. "Trowa?"  
    "Hmmm?"  
    "I want to dance."  
    His eyes widened, lips pursing. "You want to dance? Now?"   
    I nodded, grinning at his bewildered expression. "It's not exactly the right time for it, seeing as how dawn has encroached upon us—twilight would be much better—but I really want to dance."  
    He sat up, looking down at me. "I can't believe that after everything that happened to today—after everything that's happened in the last two days—that you want to dance."  
    I rolled off the bed, bouncing on my feet with surprising energy. I didn't have much in the way of magical reserves left, but it was a simple, minor illusion to make the room glow with the warm and sombre colours of twilight. It was a frivolous thing to do, but I was young and happy and in love, and at the moment I didn't care. "Come on, you lazy wolf! Come and dance with me."  
    He laughed at me, shaking his head even as he came to me. "And what shall we dance, my faerie princeling?"  
    "Oh, I don't care!" I joined him in laughter as he swept me into his arms, moving us about the room with what seemed to be casual elegance. No longer disjointed, inarticulate, frenetic… We moved with simple ease, with loving grace, each of us to our own song that always seemed to match beats. Minutes flew by without notice, and I was content to simply exist.  
    "Once, if we had done this, we would have been like spiders trying to dance—too many limbs getting in the way, never knowing which one to put where."  
    I nodded, laying my head on his chest as we slowed our pace, content to simply hold and be held. "But we fit now. We always fit, actually, but now it's…it's perfect."  
    "_We're_ perfect."  
    I mumbled agreement; sleep was making my eyelids heavy now. Trowa noticed this and nuzzled my cheek, drawing me towards the bed. "Poor Quatre. Too tired to even handle a proper allegro beat."  
    "Nope," I said, barely managing to raise my hand in time to cover a yawn. "I think all I'm up for now is maybe a largo."  
    "How about bed?"  
    "Or that."  
    Trowa had to help me into my pyjamas, and then he pulled me back onto the bed and into his arms. I didn't even notice as my control over my twilight-illusion slipped and the neon lights from across the street drifted through the blinds and painted themselves onto the wall. Because I was tired, and I was happy, and I was in love, and everything else could wait.  
    "I hope Duo's going to be better now."  
    "I think he will be. And, Quatre…"  
    I could sense his hesitation, but I was just too tired to open my eyes. "Hmmm?" I asked, snuggling closer to his warmth.  
    "I think that things between Duo, Wufei, and Heero will work out. I'm not saying you were right, but…but I did overreact, back then. For that, I apologise. And I do…I do trust you."  
    I smiled, kissing his neck. "Thank you. And I'm sorry that it took us so long to work out this dance properly."  
    "We did fumble a lot, didn't we?"  
    "Mm-hmmm. But now…"  
    "Now we're elegance."  
    I nodded. "And someday we'll dance a proper twilight tarantella."  
    "After this is all over, I'll hold you to that. But, for now, you need to sleep; you've got a lot of work to do tomorrow in getting us to the Underhill."  
    "Good night, Trowa."  
    "_Je t'aime_."  
    "And I, you," I whispered.  
    Before sleep completely claimed me, I made a promise, one that I intended to keep or die trying. Someday, when we've managed to sort through the tangle of Sidhe, vampire, and lycanthrope politics we've landed ourselves in inadvertently, I'll take my wolf to the true world of Twilight for a dance that will last our lifetimes.  
    But for now, everything else…could wait.  



End file.
